Reign of Power
by Fayr Warning
Summary: PostOotP. The lines between Dark and Light have faded into Grey and Harry must learn to fight for himself...7th year and the war is breaking...Lords, Heirs, Vampires,werewolves, magic and more.No pairings.AU after HBP. COMPLETE
1. Reign of Power

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Reigns of Power**

Hogwarts seemed oddly empty during the summer holiday. The halls echoed with the whispers of children and the quiet footsteps of professors.

From the lakeside, the castle was a beautiful contrast to the darkened sky, its reflection on the water playing with the shifting tides like fireflies.

And he remembered how 4 Privet Drive had looked like a torch that beautiful night so long ago. He remembered the heat of the fire, so intense it melted the neighbor's garden gnomes.

In the quiet night, Harry hummed softly. The war was all around him and he was so very tired of it. It was with him the war had begun, and with him it would end. But the fates chose unwisely. They chose a boy who was loosing faith in the world and the people around him. In the ideals he was fighting for but never understood. Harry was loosing faith in the Dumbledore and his righteous light side.

'_May the crimes you do in the name of justice visit you in the dark of the night'_

Was Voldemort's blood any more different than Dumbledore? Two men of power who where blind to the crimes they committed in the name of the greater good.

Did the torture inflicted on a Muggle under _crucio_ any greater than the slow torture of a boy being leached of his life by everyone?

Did the Muggleborn deserve any less than that which they themselves inflicted upon creatures of magic?

This war that two blind men had aggravated had seeped into every crevice of society. Harry could see it. The slight flinch of the Dark Creatures when they walked alongside the wizards. The accusations that flowed from children as they condemned other children. The enmity of the school against the Slytherin House; a wariness born anew in neighbors eyes.

_Will you come upon my door on a lonely night and end my life?_

The Ministry was doomed. Doomed the day they closed their eyes and hoped that if they didn't see it, it wasn't true. They would fall, whether to Dumbledore's council or to Voldemort's aggression. And those foolish creatures that hoped the Ministry would protect them would tremble from the very helplessness they encouraged.

_They will kill him._

He understood that with clarity. Voldemort would end his existence, Dumbledore would end his life. What need did either have for a rebellious boy when the Boy-who-Lived could shatter or unite the Wizarding World?

_Did he dare take the power that was just as much his as was his very name?_

Dumbledore had done something that could prove very foolish. Severus Snape spoke truth when he had sworn Dumbledore was blind to his Golden Boy.

Harry remembered the owl that had flown that summer day to the Burrow nearly a year ago. His friends gathered to celebrate his sixteenth year.

_Happy Birthday, Harry. May the last of your blood join your parents in their eternal sleep_.

And like that the Dursleys where gone in a 'gas explosion'. The dark mark hovering over the trimmed lawn now littered with debris. Dumbledore had fought for Harry's emancipation to protect him from the Ministry exploitation. They had finally granted his legal emancipation so long as Harry resided at Hogwarts till his seventeenth year, when the laws of underage wizardry would no longer apply. By then Harry would also be able to apparate out of trouble.

The sun had set long ago, this warm evening. The end of July 30th.

Come midnight Harry would be free from their direct manipulation. The beginning of the wizarding world's much appla**u**ded seventeenth year. The age when a wizard took his place as an adult in the magical world.

Dumbledore may believe Harry was a docile lamb that would stay at Hogwarts 'for his own protection', but come midnight Lord Potter would once more take the reigns of power born from his inheritance.

TBC…….

**S**

**AN**: I've been getting a lot of questions on when this takes place. It's the summer before 7th year. Dursleys died the summer before 6th year and Harry has been living at Hogwarts full time since.

Thanks for all the reviews!


	2. Walker of the Night

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Walker of the Night**

**Chapter 2**

"What are you waiting for, little one?" The voice was silky and calm but did not belie the fact that the owner could become dangerous in a moments notice.

From the shadows he walked, graceful and predatory. Long black hair and pale skin. Yellow eyes and ruby lips. Inhumanly beautiful and simply not human. A boy could find the strangest things if he was confined to Hogwarts for a time without reprieve.

Sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight in a humorless smile. The Vampire Amos Caliga of the Clan Caliga, named for the darkness that was their path.

Amos moved silently till he crouched by Harry who lay crumpled on the boulder still warm from the day's sun. Sharp nails fluttered in Harry's eyesight before gentle knuckles stroked his cheek.

Harry's eyes remained wary and amused as he gazed into yellow orbs.

"This night will not be the night I become your child, Vampire Caliga."

A soft sigh. Really, Amos thought, it was no more than he expected from the stubborn child.

Sprawling lazily next to the young man Amos resumed his query.

"What to you wait for this night childe?"

"A rebirth of power, the new day will signal the end of my imprisonment."

Amos looked amused. He _was_ centuries old, so he might have amble reason to be amused.

"Little One, you've only to call my name and I will take you from this place."

"Your long life must have taught you either patience or disappointment, feel free to embrace either one." Retorted the wizard.

If anything, Amos looked even more amused.

"I could change you right now, and you my dear wizard could not stop me."

"But you will not for fear of breaking my sanity and my magic."

Harry chuckled softly as Amos almost pouted. The first time they had met, nearly a year ago, Amos had felt the need to attain the wild-haired child as one of his chosen, and said child had nearly flown into hysterics.

Harry had researched vampires if only to protect him from those allies that Voldemort procured. Dumbledore, not being as foolish as he'd proved in years prior, had at least described everyone that wanted to kill Harry.

There where two types, Master and Lesser. Master where those who retained full function of their faculties, Lesser where little more than blood hungry beasts that had a moment or two of sanity in their long life. Contrary to myth, not everyone could become a vampire. Vampires could sense the few that could. The process was further complicated by the fact that a changed vampire could become a Lesser unless they willingly embraced the eternal life. When Amos had sensed Harry, he had nearly been overwhelmed by the potential the child possessed. This was a worthy heir to the Clan Caliga, yet the stubborn childe insisted on clinging to his mortality.

His rejection would have been the end of their acquaintance but boredom and curiosity drove the young man when anyone else would have never wandered anywhere near the Forbidden Forest. Long-lived creatures found so little to entertain them that as time wore on anything that amused them they clung fiercely to.

It wasn't like their friendship wasn't beneficial to either. Amos was amused and Harry learned of things no one would tell him. His self appointed guardians would send him unaware to his death if only to protect the illusion of innocence on a child with blood on their hands.

And the centuries had taught the vampire many things.

"The Wizarding world hasn't been this amusing in years. A hive of bees you will stir the moment your deeds become public news. The mortal lords will have a lovely panic attack."

Harry smirked into the night.

TBC...

**AN:**

**Caliga**- Latin for darkness

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	3. Savior without Salvation

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Savior without Salvation**

**Chapter Three**

Harry woke with a start. Still wearing his robes from last night he had the distinctive feeling that he had fallen asleep outside. Trust a Vampire to get into Hogwarts. After all, all manner of Dark Creatures found their way into the grounds.

It was still early; the sky a ripe blood red.

Legends said a blood red sky was the mark of a bloody night. No doubt somewhere someone had paid to Voldemort with their life. The Dark Lord had always plotted to keep the Golden Boy alienated from the general populace, and if the public learned to mark his birthday as a bloody day of violence so much the better.

Today was his seventeenth birthday but none of his friends would greet him at dawn, no owls would flutter at the stroke of midnight, no surprise parties would spring from hidden corners. They where all too busy patrolling the little sheep.

Everyone knew Voldemort would celebrate the birth of the Boy-Who-Lived. For God's sake, there had been articles for days that speculated what bloody prize He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would lay at the Golden Boy's feet.

Frankly, Harry didn't want to know.

News would come soon enough and he would endure another year where the school whispered:

'_If only he hadn't come to Hogwarts…'_

'_If only Potter wasn't your friend…..'_

'_If only he'd kill Voldemort already….'_

The sheep were too terrified to accuse Voldemort less news travel back to him that they were part of his 'critics'. But they had no qualms about attacking Harry.

He was their Savior….

……and he was their Martyr.

Their whipping boy and the willing soldier, fearless knight and the reckless child.

Drowning in names, titles, and accusations. He felt the fear deep in his bone, the panic that sprang in the middle of the night. Were his friends so ready to see his death if only to buy their freedom? And a voice in his heart cried inconsolably:

_I don't want to die._

The school was empty save the house-elves that always seemed to be just around the corner and the ghosts that floated for all eternity. Portraits chatted amiably to neighbors. Yet all kept a wary eye on the young man. Harry knew without asking that these were his minders. Everyone was confident Voldemort would not attack Harry directly so long as he stayed out of the way.

In one of the last visions he'd had back in the summer after 5th year Voldemort had promised Harry.

'_I will not seek your blood anymore. Luck or the Gods are with you, but they do not favor everyone else. This war will drive you mad, the blood of your innocents spilled everyday, and always because it was your blood that gave me life once more. Poor little Harry,' the serpentine voice mocked, 'they will turn from you, tarnish everything that you are, condemn everything you do. I need not waste my time killing you; your friends will do it for me. How long will they stand by your side as their family and friends fall? How long before they wish your death? Before they walk away from you? Denounce you? Everything you touch falls to ruin, everyone you love pays the prize.'_

How could anyone, even the Darkest Lord, say that do a child burdened by the world, who had just buried his Godfather? How could this conflict spanning many decades, focus on a child not even born when the first murder was committed?

Both wanted him, Dumbledore and Voldemort.

'_You will die by the Light or submit to the Dark. You have no Salvation.'_

If it wasn't so sad, he'd laugh.

The Savior had no salvation.

**I**t was easy enough going unseen to Myrtle's Bathroom. An illusion placed in one of the Library's alcoves would assure his minders that he did nothing more harmful than reading a long-winded tome. An invisibility cloak assured his passing unseen. You'd think with all the trouble he'd caused with the cloak, someone would have confiscated it by now. Of course they probably would if they knew even half the things he did with them unawares.

Dumbledore might have been the Headmaster of Hogwarts which entitled him certain sway with the resident ghosts but not even he could control a temperamental adolescent girl who died during his tenure.

Myrtle seemed to suffer from hormones for all 50 years she'd haunted her stall. For the smile of the green-eyed boy who sometimes came to visit her in the dead of the night and tell her of things she'd never had the chance to see Myrtle would break school rules.

She kept his secrets and he kept hers. The boy would go into the secret passage late at night and come back at all manner of time. She never asked what he did down there and he never said. But sometimes he'd bring her a rose or a poppy, and she could almost remember the terribly shy girl who had giggled behind school books as professors droned on. And she would dare to visit one of the kinder ghosts for a time before the world at large frightened her back to the scene of her death.

Harry slit down the passage of the Chamber of Secrets. Months of use had cleared some of the grime and dust but he still had to cast a cleaning spell on himself when he landed.

This was his retreat, his Sanctuary. And Dumbledore no matter how powerful could ever hope to find him here, not unless he kindly asked for Voldemort's help. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't that senile.

A silent spell made the surrounding torches light up the Hall of Slytherin. The dead basilisk had long since been salvaged into potion ingredients. Of course he'd kept a healthy stock, but all the excess he'd quietly sold of in Asia. That had been one of the first times he'd jump-apparated. A necessity, it was too easy to track basilisk's parts. Snape, as a Potion Master, was just too suspicious not to question that. The rarity of the parts would bring to mind the dead basilisk one reckless little boy had fought. By the time the parts made it to Britain, no doubt they would, they'd have switched hands so many times it would be impossible to track it to its source.

Harry had been astounded when he read up on how much the parts sold for; he'd been flabbergasted when he saw how much people were willing to pay. For all his excursions he needed a healthy supply of galleons with no paperwork attached.

The Golden Boy wasn't as golden.

Harry suspected Slytherin might have once used the Hall as his retreat. He certainly designed it for a prolonged stay. He'd found a dusty series of chambers, a general library, living rooms, training rooms still equipped with ageless weapons. Deeper into the bowels Harry explored; into areas where he was sure young Riddle never went into.

So Harry found the secrets one cunning ancient snake had hidden and the doorway from which Voldemort could have infiltrated the school long ago, the Passageway into the Forbidden Forest. Of course that wasn't nearly as exciting as Slytherin's secret library. Sure there were tomes of his scattered at Hogwarts library and various collections but this was his secret, his journals, where he hid things even he knew should stay out of the general populace, forgotten lore, things feared even in his time and of course Parsel-magic.

Parseltongue was just one of the effects common to those who wielded Parsel-magic. It was in itself a separate branch, like animagus and metamorphism. Just ability. The difficulty lay in controlling the power, more slippery than core magic, it was amazing and terrible. The potential to harness the powers of the snakes, whether the death-eyes of the basilisk or the poison of an asp among other things. And Harry possessing the singular ability to fail completely or succeeded beyond the wildest dream, took to it like a fish to water.

It was with one such spell that Harry was able to open the passageway guarded by an Indian cobra statue, following the obscure reference Slytherin made to the doorway in one journal. So the world opened before him…

He stepped outside, emerging from a cave hidden by two gnarled and ancient trees. Just a couple meters outside the wards on the other side of the lake. From there it was a simple matter to apparate into the Diagon Alley Apparition Station, cloaked in Parsel glamour spells able to resist simple _finite incantatem_. Only the counter Parsel- spell could remove it. So the wide-eyed blue eyed boy, with wavy brown hair smiled sheepishly at the operator and with a jolly grin emerged into Diagon Alley.

The shoppers where a little more wary than years previous but nothing really could dissuade them away from the buzz that was constant in the Alley. Harry didn't dare skulk about or cast notice-me-not charms. Trained Aurors could spot that a mile away. It was best to be hidden in plain sight. Harry's trained eye side, developed out of boredom when he played at spotting Order Members following him, easily picked up Aurors and members of the Order. He even recognized a couple by name. Had he been anyone else but the Boy-Who-Lived he would have been appalled to know that a boy was able to spot and name the law enforcement so easily, especially when Harry wasn't the sort to look for petty trouble. As it was, Harry knew what real trouble was.

Gringotts was up ahead. People strolled in and out. Harry was careful to avert his eyes from the inscription on the wall. It was a clever spell, designed to activate each time someone read it. People literally cast it on themselves when they read it. Slytherin had been fascinated by it in his journals, speculation on how to copy that bit of Goblin-magic.

The lines where relatively short, no doubt for fear an attack here would mark Harry Potter's birthday. Soon enough he made it to the front.

"Key?" sneered the goblin.

Lovely creatures, Harry thought sardonically. He supposed if he spent all day serving people who only seemed to care about how many rebellions his people had incited he'd be a tad disgruntled. Wizard opinion generally thought of goblins a step above house-elves. Their branch of magic was simple enough if completely unique but Harry knew the havoc their magic and weapons combined weaved. Active goblin-magic was slow, and generally forged onto metal but destructive with careful planning. There was a reason the Ministry kept the goblins suppressed within the bowels of Gringotts but did not interfere otherwise.

The bronze key was handed over.

"I request Igknots assistance." The goblin regarded him silently, losing the sneer that Harry betted was on his face all day.

"Very well. Step to the side and he'll be one moment."

Harry had long since come to terms with his paranoia. So much of his life had been engineered. The ignorant boy, starved for affection who was cultivated to save everyone because their life was 'more important' than his own. The gentle giant introduced to lay the groundwork for Gryffindor mentality. All the right people had suppressed him and all the right people had encouraged him till he was down the path of a reckless savior completely under Dumbledore's control. And he'd been too blind to see any of that. Ostracized enough so that his close friends were a Light wizard and a Muggle-born.

Paranoia was bound to be bred in his mind.

Igknots was like any other goblin but Harry's eyes recognized the goatee he'd been trying to grow on his pointed chin and the scar that ran down his cheek, courtesy of a close encounter with a dragon. Igknots was the goblin that had fist set up the unnamed vault where Harry hid his basilisk gold and items he acquired with less than questionable history. He'd be a fool to keep it in his trunk at school; he suspected that his things where periodically searched to protect him from 'improper influences' and as long as it protected him in their minds no one questioned the unethical activity.

Igknots had kept his secrets first out of a gold incentive later because he genuinely liked Harry.

"Greeting Igknots, may the gold of your hands grow from your labor."

The three-footed goblin nodded his head in the traditional greeting.

"Greeting Mr. Evans. May your labor yield you gold."

Goblins had a fascinating mentality, it seemed to revolve around gold. But maybe that was because Igknots was a teller directly involved with gold. The dragon-handlers probably greeted each other by saying something along the lines of 'may you run faster than the dragon's breath'…

"Is it possible to have a private meeting somewhere? I'd like to access the assets that fall under my inheritance."

"Very well Mr. Evans, if you'll follow me."

Igknots already knew enough of his life to have gathered the documents needed beforehand.

"The Potter Family estate is now legally transferred to the current heir, Mr. Harold James Evans Potter. As of the eighteenth of August of last year, Mr. Harold Potter was designated heir by the only living heir of the Black Family, Mr. Sirius Julius Black. The estate was signed over to Mr. Albus Dumbledore at the hearing of the will on the eighteenth of August."

Harry breathed lightly as he struggled with his anger. Two years ago he would have been hurt by the information before immediately becoming enraged. He suspected many things about that will, no doubt Dumbledore had seen fit to protect him from unnecessary grief. That summer at Grimmauld Place he remembered the Order whispering when they thought he wasn't there. About an 'estate'. Speculations on how much it was worth, mentions of exotic homes they've heard about over the years that belonged to the estate. At the time he hadn't wanted to believe, he'd even brought up the subject of who would inherit Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. All he'd gotten was a vague answer about the designated heir not being able to take charge of the house for the moment. Of course he couldn't if no one told him it was his.

"As of thirteenth of November of the last year, the Slytherin Estate designated Mr. Harold Potter as heir. The estate was signed over by Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the current trustee of the estate."

This time Harry did forget to breath.

'_You will die by the Light or submit to the Dark. You have no Salvation.'_

Voldemort….. was all Harry's numb brain could process. Swallowing thickly, Harry motioned the goblin to continue.

"All current properties are listed under their respective estate." Three moderately thick books where placed on the table between them. It listed a combined total of several dozen properties, most of them old. Though there were a couple modern penthouses under Black and Potter. Following that where hereditary items, including one invisibility cloak designated to be at Godric's Hallow,1965

"Said estates each warrant a heredity seat among the full session of the Wizengamot. The Slytherin inheritance warrants a seat among Hogwarts school board. All estates hold various appointees on the board of both magical and Muggle firms. For a full account please refer to the listing under '_Investments_'"

Harry continued looking at the paperwork in a daze. He wasn't ready to think about Slytherin and Voldemort. It took him several months to reconcile himself to the Black inheritance he'd merely suspected. He'd be in denial for a while longer about this one.

"Any questions and concerns can be answered by your solicitor listed on the first page of each deed. Unfortunately all three estates are held by different solicitors. If you wish to make any changes in arrangements contact your solicitors.

"As standard procedure activated during any war a sample of your blood is requested to confirm any inheritance left to you by departed family member. The procedure is not required but is recommended."

Numbly Harry offered his hand. Igknots pricked his finger and let a couple of ruby drops fall into a silvery vortex that curved downward before ending at a sharp point that could only be described as a metallic quill. Clean parchment rested underneath.

Curiosity and unease warred in his head. He didn't want to see any surprises, knowing him it would be something more.

Igknots quietly handed the finished parchment after several moments.

**July 31, 1997**

**Harold James Evans Potter**

**Potter Estate…………….designated by James Eunis Potter, 1981**

**Black Estate……………. designated by Sirius Julius Black, 1995**

**Slytherin Estate………… designated by Tom Marvolo Riddle, 1995**

**Morrigan Estate……….. designated by Oswald Gryer Morrigan, 1897**

**Wentforth Family……….designated by Eloise Harriet Potter Wentfort, 1980**

If anything, the goblin looked pleased at the last names. After a few moments a surly goblin delivered two other deed-books from whatever summon Igknots had sent.

"The Morrigan Estate, much like Slytherin, does not hold stock in any modern company. It is moderately wealthy and does entitle you to a seat on the Wizengamot as well as a seat on the Hogwarts board as stipulated by Hogwarts' Morrigan associate, Rowena Ravenclaw. Morrigan Estate is traditionally only held by a male heir which barred inheritance from the late Mr. Morrigan's daughter and granddaughter but as his great-grandson you are designated heir. The Wentforth family was decimated in the last active war. The Estate held in trust by Mrs.Wentforth appointed her second cousin Mr. James Potter as heir. Mr. Potter never consolidated the Wentforth Estate with his own. The Estate consists of a Gringotts vault, a manor and a summer cottage. Wentforth only holds investments in the Daily Prophet and Madam Olina's Healer Supplies."

Harry nodded dumbly.

The only thing he could think about was how green Ron would be when he found out. And they would. They played on a double standard for so long it was only right Harry take his revenge. They were all so confident Voldemort would not attack. They left him with virtually no guards but they still felt he was prone to be attacked so they restricted the information he was privy to. And everyone felt it was such a burden for the fragile boy to hear about even public news. Without Amos and several of his other friends Harry wouldn't know a damn thing.

It was the Wizengamot votes he loved. The Mugwump wouldn't know what hit him. A full Wizengamot had a multitude of seats for wizarding families. The seats were prized in this world but usually the families feared a consolidation of power so there never really was anyone with more than one or two votes.

Harry ruled over four votes, he dare not use one though. He'd just love to see the articles printed about him going dark because Voldemort had the ridiculous idea to make him heir.

Four votes, legal emancipation, no magic restriction, more money than he'd ever care to know about...the world was wide open.

Now all he had to do was end a war.

TBC………….

**Caliga**- Latin for darkness

**Morrigan **-as in The Morrigan, symbolized by a Raven (Ravenclaw)…..cute, huh?


	4. Prowling Wolves

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Prowling Wolves**

**Chapter Four**

He left Gringotts, walking so quickly Voldemort could have been behind him. Stumbling out into the noon sunshine, he paused near a pillar and breathed in deeply.

He couldn't afford to attract the eyes of the Aurors and Order members. If he could recognize his minders by now, no doubt they could to. His walk, an expression, his voice…anything could give him away.

Harry dove into the crowd, avoiding all the sharp elbows and careless feet. Ghosting among them, no one even knew he walked by if not for the flutter of his cloak. What he needed right now was to check in with his contacts and maybe a stiff drink.

Pulling up his hood, he turned smoothly into the shadowy alleyways of Knockturn Alley. Today, ironically enough was probably the safest day to be in this alley. Voldemort was highly unlikely to attack here of all places, especially when the Golden Boy shouldn't even care about what seedy creatures hung in those parts.

The shops where a little more shadowy, the pubs darker, the people shiftier. This was the place where even Aurors deemed hopeless. Knockturn Alley took care of its own. Harry walked near the end of the Alley where it was intersected by Dulcis Alley, the hallway of pleasure. Right now that Alley was mostly deserted, come night the clubs would blossom into a brilliant display of light charms and music.

The Dark Carus was a relatively modern bar. The patrons weren't the 'ideal' citizens of proper Wizarding society, which more often that not alienated them into their own societies or into the Muggle world.

It was early enough that not a lot of patrons where there getting gloriously drunk. The lunch crowd was arriving, most people entering though the Muggle-way entrance rather than the Alley.

Harry took a seat at one of the tables, the wall behind him and the back door a couple steps to his right.

Truly, he only possessed a healthy amount of paranoia.

The waitress was a blue-eyed French girl named Artemis who insisted she had no last name. But here, identities where like robes, you discarded one for another the next day.

" 'Lo, monsieur Mortifer, wha' can I get you?"

"The special and a butterbeer, mademoiselle Artemis." A quick grin and the girl had moved on.

To them, Evan Mortifer was a dark wizard tutored by a great-uncle at home, curious and sarcastic.

"Look what wandered into Knockturn Alley. Honestly, what are people thinking these days? Letting little boys with only training wands go near such dangerous creatures….tisk, tisk, tisk" teased the golden-brown eyed man with shaggy hair and worn Muggle clothes. His companion that could be mistaken for his twin just sighed and pulled up a chair from to Evan's table.

"Doesn't matter what kind of wand it is, all wands feel the same when their being shoved up your ass."

"Really, Evan, if you're that sexually frustrated, a quick shag upstairs would solve both our problems."

"You seem to forget, my dear Bast, I have taste."

Bast just chuckled and patted Harry's shoulder mockingly.

"Control your twit of a cousin, Sean."

Sean and Bast Brungle where cousins, both in their late twenties. Sean had been a Muggle-born wizard while Bast had been his Muggle cousin when both where bitten by a werewolf. Too dangerous to freely live in the Muggle world and too hated to make a life for themselves in the Wizarding world, they now worked as movers in the Muggle world while living in the darker parts of the Wizarding world. The ideal job really, their unnatural strength helpful in lugging around furniture all day.

"What brings you here Evan? It's a bad day to be wandering around, the Dark Bird's just itching to be a hexing." Said Sean, the more reasonable of the cousins. The Dark Bird was Voldemort translated into its French counterpart 'flight of death'.

After a quiet Silencing Spell, Harry preceded to given them a rundown.

"My guardian was busy so I was finally able to peek at the inheritance my family left me. The conniving Wanker was hiding a couple things from me, nothing much really, just a seat on the Wizengamot my mother's family left me." The complete truth, just with severe gaps was always the best way to go in Harry's mind.

The cousins whistled.

"What was the Wanker hoping to do? Keep you ignorant--"

"--keep you dependent—"

"—keep you indebted—"

Harry smiled in amusement at the cousins. If only there weren't laws prohibiting werewolf employment in law offices, these two would be wonderful solicitors. Sean had in fact been apprenticed to a firm right before he was bitten. Bast, being Sean sounding board, knew just as much.

"How was he able to keep you from something like that?", said Sean when the cousins finally calmed down.

"I haven't a bloody clue, but the wanker is known to through his weight around, no doubt he 'convinced' someone in Gringotts to deliver my mail to him."

Bast whistled. "Uncle Wanker must have given a goblin a very shinny piece of gold to convince them to bend their rules."

"Either that, or Uncle Wanker now owes them a debt that his grandkids will be working off." , continued the other cousin.

Harry frowned. Was he traded off to buy the goblins some influence on the most powerful Light wizard? If so, he couldn't really blame the goblins but it left him just a tad colder than a moment before. Where the goblins so desperate that they would break centuries old rules to buy what little protection they could of a manipulative old coot?

"I wouldn't put it past them to have sold me out, Uncle Wanker has some pretty friends at the Ministry."

"Tough mate, bets are all this was under the table. No paper trail, any inquiries would just give you a couple of _Obliviates_ all around."

"I think my life could have done without that thought in mind.", said Harry unhappily.

"So could anyone, mate."

The three left that topic alone and started talking about mutual friends and daily anecdotes. Near the end of their meal, Sean leaned back eyes trained on anyone too curious while Bast leaned forward.

"All quiet on the front?" was the silencing spell on?

Reinforcing it with a Parsel-spell, Harry nodded.

"My Clan met a couple days ago, the Dark Bird has begun sending offers out to the other clans, it's only a matter of time before we get one. So far the clans have danced around the offers. It's between a rock and a hard place, both sides want us to fight for them and no one is willing to make any great changes for us. It'll be like the last war, they promised us more freedom but then we where basically denied in the end because 'our kind' joined the other side too. It wouldn't be fair to reward the Dark, so it's best to punish those who fought on the Light equally." By the time Bast was banished, the gold in his eyes was overpowering the brown.

"How long do you think you can keep either from nailing you?"

Bast sighed heavily. "Probably to the end of the year. So long as the Light doesn't gain any big power, the Bird will keep his wand to himself. If we're lucky we'll make it into spring, right now their all looking for allies and so long as we don't make a terrible blunder they'll keep sweet-talking into our ear."

"When did the Bumblebee send out his offer? And did the Cupcake send out another one?"

"They haven't sent out one, but their spies are probably aware about this so it won't be long. Any offer the Cup Cake sends out will probably be dictated by the Bumblebee before he sends out another one promising to keep the Cake in line."

Dumbledore and Fudge where a little late in the game courting the werewolves.

"Any unofficial feelers?"

"Last Christmas, the Bee sent out a wolf of his own to establish 'lines of communication'. Around Easter, we started to get visitors singing praise to the Bird, pure propaganda."

Harry frowned in worry. No doubt Dumbledore was having Remus Lupin scouting the mood. It was dangerous business, especially if the Clan he scouted threw in their lot with the Voldemort. The next time someone saw Remus could be in pieces. Werewolves where not gentle creatures when they protected their own.

"The Bird and the Bee are scouting into deeper areas. They've sent out feelers into leech territory, so far the master leeches have made themselves 'unavailable', but they've as much time as you do before they have to give up that game.

"The stargazers have already been contacted by both. They just sprouted some nonsense about Mars before burrowing deeper into their homes. The Big Boys are now mostly flocking to the Bird. I haven't heard anything official about the others."

Bast frowned. He never asked how Evan Mortifer, a human wizard, knew what centaurs, giants and vampires where doing and frankly it was safer if he didn't know. He suspected Mortifer gleaned it off his controlling great-uncle, but he'd never heard anyone with guardianship over a boy named Mortifer. Then again that probably wasn't his real name either. Just like Brungle wasn't his. To protect what family he did have from the stigma of a werewolf he had to leave them behind.

"And unofficial?"

"No one is really bothering about the Veelas, they don't make that great a soldiers, it may distract your enemies but it will also turn on your allies. The Little Men are currently playing at neutral but I suspect they're going to be taking as much as they can from either side before someone corners them. And without a paper trail it'll be hard to catch them. Probably why I was sold out to the Wanker."

"They played for the Light the last time and in the end it got them nothing. We suspect they won't willingly go Dark because the Bird would create an unstable economy but they aren't looking forward to playing with the Cake."

Harry, with his Muggle upbringing knew little about the unofficial politics involved in the last war. For that he needed someone with good ears or who had lived though the time. Much as he loved his friends, he was wary of asking uncomfortable questions to people who would see it in his best interest to go to Dumbledore. If he had to find people who answered in odd places, so be it.

Harry and Bast leaned back, both contemplating the trade of information. It was useful for both of them, it gave them a heads up to the world around them. Harry knew Bast relayed the information to his Clan even if Bast didn't know exactly who Harry reported to. They were as honest as they could be to each other, solely because they knew they were on the same side. Dancing between the powers of Light and Dark, in the Grey area. The longer they could play the game, the better for everyone in their opinion.

"Things are speeding up, the Bird is building up terror right now by harassing the Muggles but it won't be long before he sets his eyes on the major areas. When he does, he'll want to have backing in place. He'll want answers when that happens. Watch for attacks on important wizards or areas."

Bast eyed Mortifer curiously. He suspected Mortifer was of a Light or Neutral family but it always confused him how the kid knew so much about 'dark creatures' and how he seemed to understand Voldemort's mind better than anyone, including his elders.

Harry knew the thoughts his friend had. Living in the shadow of Voldemort had taught him much about the man. While he and Voldemort learned how to stay out of torture visions and planning sessions respectively, Harry frequently dreamt about a young boy named Tom as he went though the orphanage and Hogwarts and a deadly man that began his rise to power. Harry suspected that when Voldemort learned to close his recent memories from Harry's prying, he opened up the long-term memories.

In such dreams, Harry could see why people followed the handsome strategist who promised glory. Tom cultivated a charisma that dazzled his audience into submission.

The lunch hour was ending and the cousins would have to return soon enough.

Pulling his book bag from his feet, Harry pulled out a legal text he had skimmed though a couple days ago. He read up on relevant things but he hadn't the patience or interest to study it.

"Hey Sean, I bought the book a couple days ago and it's dead boring, but I figure you could use it to put Bast to sleep."

The law books in general where not cheap and this one in particular cost a heavy sum.

"Evan, you shouldn't be throwing your money away like that.", scolded Sean who was fighting himself between refusing the gift and snatching the book up.

As a rule, werewolves hated charity. To accept charity was to admit that something was wrong with them. They had lost so much in life, that pride was one thing they would not give up. Remus had taught that to Harry over the years.

"I don't trust anyone the Wanker might appoint to give me advice, so expect me to come to you for legal matters. After all I can't have you being ignorant, can I?"

At the mere mention of the word 'ignorant' Sean snatched the book eagerly. If Sean was bitter about anything, it was being denied the opportunity to indulge his passion for the law.

Bast just rolled his eyes behind Sean head. If one knew how, it was easy to push Sean's buttons. Thanks to Evan, they were now building a small but quite informative law library in the flat they shared. Sean practically worshiped those books. Thanks to those books, Sean and Bast where becoming more influential in their clan because of their ability to navigate thought the wizarding law that caged them. Books none of them could hope of affording.

"Thanks Evan, he'll become like a new mother over that book for weeks. I haven't a hope of seeing either one for a couple of weeks." Pouted Bast.

Sean scowled while his companions laughed.

"You grand idiot, it's near time we headed back."

They paid for their meals before the cousins headed out to Muggle London and Harry entered back into the Alley.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets Harry fingered the cold metal rings he'd stuffed their earlier. Igknots had handed them to him at the end of their meeting. The Family rings, the tickets he'd need to use as confirmation at the Wizengamot. He saw them for a moment but the image was burned into his mind. The gold ring of Potter, with an amber engraved with a lion, the ruby red ring of Black the onyx thestral caught in the depths of the stone. The golden ring of Morrigan, its faithful raven engraved in a sapphire. The winding platinum snakes of Slytherin, its ancient emerald eyes caught forever. The first three rings where the rings of the Family Head, as was his right. The Slytherin ring was not as extravagant as the others and was commonly referred to as the Heir Ring. He was afraid to put that one on, for fear that it be something as awful as a portkey, Harry wouldn't put it past Voldemort.

He didn't know what kind of game Voldemort was playing this time. Why was he leaving him alone, naming him his heir? Worst of all, he didn't know who to talk to. Anyone he felt comfortable talking with would probably run to Dumbledore in fear of the Golden Boy going Dark. Dumbledore was the last thing he needed in his life. He didn't dare wear the other rings, Knockturn was a wonderful place to proclaim himself not only the Potter Lord but the scion of three old families. He dealt with enough death threats without initiating any through his own stupidity.

Harry stopped at a couple shops he was familiar with, looking for anything that might interest him and keeping his ears open for gossip. Usually there weren't a lot of people out this early but on Potter's birthday, the Knocturncrowds came earlier. There where practically no Aurors skulking about and the world's eyes were off them for the moment.

Harry bought himself a couple of texts that looked promising, advanced material that would have sent Hermione drooling. Well it would, if one or two of the books weren't about the Dark Arts.

The afternoon was ending and he'd have to return to Hogwarts for dinner. While professors would let the 'sensitive boy' brood all day, someone usually checked to make sure he was alive during dinner.

Turning into Diagon Alley, Harry couldn't help but be satisfied with the productive day he had.

Sneaking back into Hogwarts was ridiculously easy. A yellow rose ensured a silvery blush and silence from Myrtle. His invisibility cloak was where he had left it. Dispelling his illusion, Harry gathered the school books he had set up early this morning and returned to Gryffindor tower. Taking his potions book with him he set out the Great Hall. Any other book would give the professors an opportunity to talk to him, with potions it was a guarantee that Snape, if he was there, would not pester Harry.

During holiday the Great Hall shifted to allow only one table. Today there where only a couple of professors that didn't really have family outside of Hogwarts and weren't involved with the Order. Professor Flitwick, Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout where there already. They didn't make any mention of his birthday and Harry didn't remind them. It might have been sad that everyone avoided it but they probably had bigger worries, Harry hadn't heard about any attacks so far. It was only a matter of time.

**Dulcis**- Latin for 'delightful'

**Carus**-'beloved, dear'

**Mortifer**-'death-bringing'


	5. Deal with the Devil

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Deal with the Devil**

Harry absentmindedly poked at a funny-tasting pudding when the owl swooped from above. A regal looking bird, dark as night. It dropped a letter before disappearing once more into the outside gloom.

Muttering three scanning charms, one of which was in Parsel-magic, Harry broke an ornate emerald crest with a poised basilisk shaped like an '_S_'.

What joy.

_To my heir,_

_I've granted you a year of peace. I have left you alone and all those you love. What has it gained you? Nothing. I've protected you from vengeance from within my ranks, has Dumbledore granted you a similar courtesy? Has the Ministry?_

_They seek your end all the while blaming you for living. Do they help you? Train you? Or will they simply send you to face me, hoping for another miracle. They sequester you, confine you, and place you on a pedestal you're falling from. _

_We are more alike than not and as you grow older you become more like me. _

_Remember as your life is shrouded in half-truths and lies, I have always told you only truth._

_Happy Birthday, my heir. I lit a cantle for you. St. Olivia burned brightly._

_Voldemort_

From the folded parchment, a simple silver band fell. Decorated with a heart under a crown, it was a symbol of love and friendship. It was nothing more than a girl's ring, but Harry's hands trembled.

Long ago, there was a moment when Petunia Dursley felt a sliver of compassion for the orphan under her care. Nearly delirious with fever at the time, he'd nearly been certain she had been a hallucination if not for the ring to serve as proof.

'_When we where small, we exchanged rings. Lily gave me this and I gave her another. To serve a symbol of our love.' Thrusting it into Harry's palm, she fled._

That ring was never mentioned again between them. For nearly a year he wore it, clinging to the mother he could not remember. That was till the summer when the Dursleys and Harry visited Vernon's sister, Marge Dursley.

The fat hateful woman, she'd spotted the ring immediately and snatched it from his hand, reprimanding him for stealing from honest folk. Harry had lost control, one of the few times he'd been so submerged in rage he could have killed and not cared at the moment. Crying, flaying, begging, and nothing. All that he gained was a hard slap and boxed ears. His Aunt Petunia had just looked at him sadly before turning away. That summer, one of Aunt Marge's terriers bit him 'accidentally'.

_Voldemort had known._

Breaking from his stupor, Harry muttered an incendio charm angrily before storming out of the hall. The destruction of the letter could be blamed on his unpredictable temper. If they insisted he had a temper, he'd oblige them.

Slamming the doors open, he almost collided with a small group of Order members. They were all unharmed, relatively normal if you ignored the heavy stench of fire that clung to them.

"St. Olivia. Marge Dursley." Harry spat at the group before disappearing down a corridor.

Those utter fools! Didn't they know, didn't they see all that was right before their eyes! Once again, Snape was proven correct when he said Dumbledore was blind to his Golden Boy. They all consoled him after the Dursleys' death, expecting a relapse into his Sirius-induced stupor. Couldn't they see there was more there than the typical disagreements between a growing boy and authority figures? Didn't they know that he had borderline hated the Dursleys and utterly despised Marge Dursley? Didn't they know he'd sooner wish them all to the bottom of the Atlantic before he shed a tear for them? Of course, Voldemort had no right to kill them but it still didn't excuse the fact that his relatives had no right to begrudge him his life.

_Voldemort knew. He knew. He knew! He knew! How much did he know?_

Harry's suspicion that Voldemort saw his long-term memories was pretty much confirmed.

The ring, Marge, St. Olivia. It was all too much. No one knew that. Or at least no one should.

Their lives were early mirrors of each other. Neglect and abuse to begin with; ambition and power where growing. He was growing to be more and more like Voldemort. To buy his freedom, Harry delved into dark paths that a young Riddle crossed long ago.

And Harry didn't know whether to be terrified or glad.

Admittedly Voldemort committed monstrous crimes but he had once been a child who the world failed. To survive, Riddle fought for his freedom, killed for his power and destroyed for his ambition.

How far was Harry willing to go for his own freedom?

Hogwarts might be entirely different from Azkaban, but it served the same purpose.

_How far would Harry bend before the world broke him? How far did Riddle bend before he was broken into Voldemort?_

It was near midnight when the owls came, a small flock with simple knickknacks, candy, and books attached. Short notes accompanied each gift. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, the twins, the collective Weasley family, Remus Lupin, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood. The Order had felt it safer if Harry not receive gifts till his birthday attack was confirmed and executed for fear of foul play.

He paused a moment to study Ron and Hermione's letters, his face wistful. Sixth year had been the turning point for the famous Gryffindor Dream Team; death had changed them. Despite all the danger and adventures of years prior, they'd never actively confronted death. Never had a wand pointed at their hearts and murder in the caster's eyes. It might have been different in fifth year, when Harry constantly burned with emotion and anger. However, during sixth year, Harry quietly brooded.

His life was spiraling out of his control. He wanted to trust them. He didn't doubt they each cared for him greatly but he couldn't make himself confide in them. How many times had he been betrayed? Spied upon? Lied to? Carelessly endangered? And these people were on the bloody light side!

He'd retreated into himself more often than naught that year, sought other friends that didn't demand his secrets, and delved into the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets.

So the Gryffindor Trio….drifted. Ron fell into the Quidditch crowd after he became captain when Harry turned down the offer. Hermione finally let herself be consumed by her books, her grasp on current events becoming vague. They could still be good friends but too much had happed to ever be best friends again.

How could one hope to explain Slytherin, Parsel-magic, vampires, and werewolves?

Harry carelessly threw the last of his gifts on his bed. Fingering the ring he carefully put it on his left pinky finger. Slender hands shinned in the moonlight, Harry wondered if these where his Mum's hands.

Energy built up so rapidly behind his scar that he lost his breath. Knowing that no matter what he'd have a headache when this was over, Harry fell on his knees……

……..and the world cruelly spun away as he was pulled by his navel. He was flying, he was falling, and suddenly he could breathe again. Touching his scar gingerly, his fingers came back wet. No surprise there. One hand fingering his wand, Harry scanned the room he landed in.

And leapt to his feet when emerald eyes met crimson orbs. Voldemort calmly sat in what looked like a private study. Raising one eyebrow, Voldemort made a show of placing a yew wand just slightly out of reach on the table between them.

"Please sit down, Mr. Potter. I only wish to talk."

"I should believe that because?", drawled Harry. If he was going to die, he'd do it standing.

His scar pulsed with Voldemort's close proximity but Harry ignored the pain.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be. The moment you became Slytherin's heir our connection was strong enough to bypass the wards at Hogwarts. I don't wish your death at his moment, I only wish to talk." His voice was calm, charismatic and soothing at once with a serpentine accent.

Still Harry did not move. Voldemort sighed and gave him what on anyone else would have been a pleading look. That more than anything else made Harry comply.

"Fine, but swear a wizards oath you will not harm me in any manner during this meeting….and I'm keeping my wand."

"Very well. I swear on my life and magic no harm shall befall Harry Potter because of me."

For a moment, both men studied each other.

If they were disturbed by the similarities in their facial expressions, posture, and any other nuance, they didn't show it.

"I'm sure you did not invite me simply to check on my physical state?" drawled Harry. Still Voldemort held his silence. Harry gazed into crimson eyes, he studied the table, admired a portrait of a especially repulsive man, straightened his robes, and scratched an irritating scab on his forearm. Still silence.

"Hey! How'd you get me here? I never picked up a portkey!"

Voldemort smiled. Harry shuddered.

"That Mr. Potter was very foolish of you. It is true you never picked up a portkey, but you did combine two elements to form a portkey." Crimson eyes trailed to slender fingers, where his mother ring glowed dully in the light.

"And the other?"

"Slytherin's ring, Mr. Potter." Harry's hand involuntary clutched the outside of his pocket where the four family rings silent clicked against each other.

"You made me your heir to bring me here." Harry stated with carefully controlled panic.

"If you want an answer, you've merely to ask Mr. Potter."

"Did you?"

"No, if I truly wanted your presence I need not make you heir. It was simply convenient."

The two men where once more effulged in silence.

"I find it fascinating Mr. Potter, you will not ask about Slytherin."

"Should I?"

"So why is it Mr. Potter, that you would coherently if not calmly talk to the wizard that has always sought your death yet you refuse to ask about Slytherin."

Harry tightened his lips, refusing to be goaded into Gryffindor impulses.

"You fear the answer, perhaps because you already know it." The wizards studied each other, the air around them charged with magical-discharge only powerful wizards could accomplish.

"No matter, you will not ask." Voldemort calmly observed.

"How far into your dreams have you traveled?" the Dark Lord asked suddenly.

Harry frowned, tempted to not answer but in the end he gave in.

"The first war has begun, and Lucius Malfoy's father has just brought him to be marked."

Voldemort nodded knowingly. "The mid-seventies."

"How far have you seen?"

Voldemort smiled the smile his followers have probably learned to fear. Voldemort was amused.

"The hat has fallen on your head and you deny your rightful house."

Harry stiffed, it was one of his greatest secrets, not the best but it was one he held close, aware of the damage it could do. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy…a Slytherin!

"Imagine what Severus would say."

Harry smirked despite himself. "Would he now?"

"Unfortunately my source would raise uncomfortable questions if the spy was to report to Dumbledore."

Harry raised an eyebrow curiously. Voldemort remained silent. Sighing Harry articulated.

"How can you be sure Snape is your spy?"

"Ever the Slytherin Mr. Potter. I did not gain power by being a fool. His information is valuable just as it is to Dumbledore but neither of us completely trusts what comes from that serpents tongue. Severus has switched sides so many times I doubt even he knows who he follows anymore."

"Ever the Slytherin, the winner."

Voldemort smiled in approval. Harry resisted the urge to avert his eyes.

"Very true Mr. Potter."

"Is there any particular reason I am here?"

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Potter. Every year you grow in power and every year you defy those that controlled your life. For a while, your death by my hands ruled you and you defied me. Now Dumbledore and his Order keep you, and you defy them. Tell me, does Dumbledore have such faith in me that he would let you wander into Diagon Alley on this of all days? He certainly never had faith in me when I was his student."

Harry froze. Did Voldemort know about Evan Mortifer?

"How do you know Dumbledore didn't take me to Diagon Alley himself?" shot back Harry.

"To collect your inheritance rings? No, I know he withheld the Black inheritance from you; he was alsothe one to suggest your long-term stay at Hogwarts. Tell me, now that you are legally of age do you truly believe Dumbledore will let you walk away from his grasp?" Emerald eyes flashed with unnatural fire. If Dumbledore's twinkle calmed people, Harry's fire would have made them back away very slowly.

"Your spy certainly keeps a tab on me if that's anything."

"That is his job."

"Dumbledore doesn't have faith in what you say, he has too much faith in me. I never asked to be part of this war, I would be happy if I never heard from either of you ever again, but I am and I will live to see the end of this mess by any means necessary."

While Harry was speaking Voldemort's eyes flashed angrily before fading into amusement. Harry clamped down on his nerves.

"You are very much like me, a survivor. You've learned to survive in a way Dumbledore will never understand, just like he never understood me. Fifty years have not made a difference. His blindness is his curse."

"And his mercy is his salvation."

"Perhaps. But it will be his undoing. No matter, time is of the essence. No doubt your minders will check on you soon. I hope you do not waste my mercy. So long as they do not cross me in battle, I can promise the safety of all those you call friend. The eyes and wands of my servants will turn from those you love."

"In exchange for what?"

Voldemort smiled and Harry wasn't sure why he found that disconcerting.

"So long as you visit me." Harry wasn't sure but he might have gapped.

"For what purpose?"

"Do I need one? I'm sure we can speak civilly to each other, we have been doing it for a time just now."

Harry frowned. He didn't know what the Dark Lord was playing at. He had given his friends the distance they needed to keep them safe from his life, he could give them this too. Damn Dumbledore. Savior instincts had an annoying habit of rearing their righteous head.

"Give me your wizard's oath and make no mistake that I do not serve you."

"As you wish. I, Lord Voldemort, Lord of Slytherin, swear on my magic and life that I will hold true to the bargain made to Harry James Potter, Lord of Potter, Lord of Black, Heir of Slytherin."

Silence effulged them like a warm cloak.

"I spent the majority of second year denying the claim I was Heir of Slytherin. How ironic." Harry smiled at the odd humor.After all, he had just made a bargain with Voldemort and begun to question his sanity soon after. He could also swear the portrait of a hag was laughing at him.

Sanity was overrated anyway. No one seemed to have much of it left to begin with.

TBC…..

Terms from previous chapters:

**Big Boys**-giants

**Little Men**-goblins

**Stargazers**-centaur

Review! Please? (here's me giving you puppy-eyes)

Review!

Review!


	6. A Lordship Reborn

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**A Lordship Reborn**

Harry didn't wake up till noon the next day. Even then, the only reason he got up was because of suspicious observations that might be born because of his late night activities. He wasn't stupid enough to believe anyone as brilliant as Dumbledore would not find out about his activities sooner or later. His best option was to hit the Headmaster with his news and demands fast enough that the old man could not weasel his way out of this.

He _did_ have certain rights Dumbledore didn't. For all his meddling Dumbledore was still a younger son of the House of Dumbledore. His brother Aberforth was the true Lord even if that old goat had appointed his brother with all the active duties.

All his observations had come up with one thing; Dumbledore was a better politician than he would ever be a Headmaster. His position made him a trusted and respected figure to children that would one day rule their world, but his manipulations where absolute and damaging when enacted an children too young to know they were being played the puppet.

For all his growing discontent, Harry forced himself to admit Dumbledore was what the Light side needed. He was their inspiration, their hope, their leader. He was also an old man that would never rest, his ears would always hear the pleas of his people, and one day he would die with the world mourning him but no one remembering how much he loved socks. Headmaster Dumbledore would be remembered and Albus-the-man would be forgotten.

And he was training Harry to take his place, the next leader of the light, the caretaker of the masses.

He still didn't know whether he would ever ascent to that position. At least Dumbledore had the peace of a carefree childhood and the invisibility of being another nameless young man. It wasn't until Grindelwald's defeat that Dumbledore became who he was today.

Harry never had that freedom. He was marked since the day the condemning words came from the batty seer.

He went to the kitchens for a late lunch. A few elves honed in on him, eager to serve. Dobby's pointed face beamed just as brightly as the first time. The elves had long since gotten accustomed to his presence and now freely moved about and did what house-elves did. They cooked, they cleaned, they gossiped.

Harry was not as foolish as to believe they did it on accident, these where bonded house-elves who protected Hogwart's secrets. If they happen to gossip and Harry happened to overhear, they weren't truly betraying their master's secrets. History books never talked about how devious the tiny creatures where. So long as Harry never asked them directly, they evaded the magic that kept their lips sealed.

House-elves liked Harry after all. But then, they pretty much like anyone that could remember their names. The Ministry of Magic alienated yet another creature when they failed to protect these beings. They made the best spies after all.

It was no coincidence that an elder elf took a roll of the duties assigned in Harry's presence. Interestingly enough the North Tower had been in use last night. Although housed in a remote area, it was perfect for overnight Order agents to crash. There where twelve guests since six elves had been assigned to that area quite loudly in Harry's general direction. Dumbledore had arrives late last night, probably after checking in and dismissing the Order from his birthday patrol. However he woke up a couple hours earlier than Harry and left to the Ministry. Harry could only wonder what the Headmaster was doing over there. He'd have to watch any unusual moves Fudge authorized in the next couple days. Dumbledore only met in person when he wanted something, he sent letters when he didn't want to give his reasons as to why he wanted something. Must be important then.

As usual Hogwarts endeavored to hide Harry from all his human minders, unfortunately the same could not be said for the pesky paintings. The library was bathed in warm light from the huge windows. Fortunately the portrait of Lady Belen the Boorish was off visiting, so no one saw Harry bypass the Restricted Section alarm and deftly pick up a book he'd been reading a couple days ago. The alarm was easily tricked but the wards on the books would not allow the books to be taken from the library without the librarian's permission. Not like it had stopped Harry. The spell needed to break that charm simply was too powerful. It wasn't worth it when he could just charm the cover and continue reading in peace.

Harry picked up an obscure book on the Hogwarts Charter, for some reason or another having been delegated to the Restricted section. It was useless to most people but invaluable to an orphaned Lord. Families would no doubt counsel their own lords and heirs on their rights but no one would tell Harry he would be able to leave Hogwarts ground to attend the full Wizengamot sessions that would begin in the fall. It's not like they could keep it a secret for long, Longbottom was a registered Lord in the book _The Wizarding Lords and Families, a comprehensive guide to notable names in history._ Attendance by Heirs was recommended; they would either watch their Lords or vote in place of their Lord. Malfoy and Longbottom Harry knew where Heirs. He'd never had an incentive to check on any ofhis other year-mates. Ron and Hermione where definitely out, Ron's family wasn't even ennobled. Of his dorm mates, Dean was a half-blood born from a witch, Seamus might be. No doubt there would be a couple in Slytherin.

Traditionally Harry would have had Hermione and Ron for this adventure but Hermione was off touring America and Ron was at Headquarters. Harry didn't want to send an owl over the pond and Headquarters was under Fidelius. Since Ron couldn't send out regular correspondence from Headquarters, Harry didn't really worry overly much about him.

No one else was close enough to Harry to warrant updates on his life. Remus Lupin his honorary uncle would be, but Dumbledore had sent him out on another round with the werewolves.

So no one was aware when Harry made appointments with his family solicitors. If there was one thing he could trust solicitors with was their loyalty to money. He was uneasy about what connections they might have, the last thing he needed was a Death Eater or a Dumbledore fanatic. He wasn't overly worried about anyone except Morrigan. Morrigan was his wild card, the vote no one knew about except one rich goblin.

A meeting was scheduled in early August, just a week and a half from now. Everything was planned so that no one would find out till it was too late. He also needed his apparation license, apparently everyone had forgotten about it. The professors weren't in the custom of thinking about it, usually delegating that duty to family. The Weasley's probably thought the matter would be taken care of by Hogwart's staff. Times like this when Harry felt the missing presence of a parent. His dad, his mum and Sirius...all gone now.

S

The start of the term was fast approaching, and the crowds swelled with wide-eyed children. Down Gaza Alley, the Potter solicitor waited for his ten a.m. appointment.

Ferdinand Wimble's family had always looked after the Potter investments. For nearly two decades the family private properties had lain untouched and since he received the summons from Lord Potter he'd been scrambling, retrieving the documents. Plus he had to straighten out Wentworth Family inheritance which had belonged to an old bat before falling amongst endless paperwork. No one had taken a look at that inheritance in more than two decades.

Harry kept a calm face, smiling pleasantly and letting proper expressions of awe surface whenever appropriate. The client-relationship prevented Wimble from disclosing any of the Potter information to anyone else but he could relate Harry's demeanor to curious parties. The information provided was less detailed than the Deed books, but Wimble had the appropriate paperwork to transfer the assets to his name.

Two hours later and a cramped hand, Harry was off to finally get his apparition license under his true name. While Evan Mortifer was licensed, it was illegal for Harry to do it at any time previously.

Ignoring the gasps and babbling of his instructor Harry apparated to the check-point at St. Mungo's lobby before returning.

His final stop of the day was outside the wizarding alleys, down Muggle London. Exiting though the Leaky Cauldron Harry followed the directions owled to him earlier. While apparition was possible, Harry wanted to see the outside of the building in case he was ever lost in London and needed help.

S

Howard H. Alextor was a middle-age man, grey eyed and steeled haired, he had an aura of intimidation but Harry shoved all his feelings aside and sneered disdainfully.

He couldn't trust Potter's solicitor not to send an owl to Dumbledore since he wasn't aware of any precautions the Headmaster might have taken. On the other hand, Alextor had to be played a different way; he didn't need a dark supporter tattling to his Master.

"Mr. Alextor? I'm Harold Potter, here to discuss the Black Estate.", Harry said in a cold voice that would have made Malfoy proud.

The disdainful sneer building on Alextor's face was quickly wiped away. He was a smart man and the boy in front of him was proving to be anything but the wide-eyed pawn of Dumbledore. To begin with, he was alone, something he would have never expected since all reports indicated that the boy was tied to Dumbledore on a very short leash.

"I want a summary of the Black estate. Why exactly was I never contacted with a financial statement on my holdings Mr. Alextor?"

"The will was signed over to Mr. Albus Dumbledore on your behalf, arrangements where made as not to inconvenience you while your schooling was in process."

"Yes I suppose that is to be expected. Tell me, do I look like a white-haired barmy old coot to you? Then why should the wishes of said coot overrule my own?"

If Alextor was surprised he kept it well hidden. He simply pulled out his copy of the Black deed-book.

"Is there anything in particular that you wanted done today Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, I understand Albus Dumbledore acted as my magical guardian when my godfather's will was enacted. I wanted to know exactly what he authorized."

At least this was something Alextor could handle with ease.

"Mr. Dumbledore basically froze the Black Estate. That means that the Black vaults were frozen preventing the transfer of money. Investments were held as they were with forty percent of the final proceeds to be reinvested. Hereditary items where collected from all the private properties save the three homes under Fidelius and placed in Vault 168. The homes where closed. All house-elves belonging to the Black family were temporarily relocated to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and placed under a temporary bond till their Master claimed them."

Harry's eyes opened wide. No wonder the little elves where so helpful. He was their master even if it was never acknowledged.

"How was the estate directed when the Lord Black was in Azkaban?"

"Our firm had the ability to invest in promising ventures with the proceeds gained. Several of the Black properties were utilized by members of the Black family. They where evicted on Dumbledore's orders and all hereditary items where confiscated."

"Who is part of the Black family? And who was evicted? And why did I inherit if there where others of Black blood?"

"To begin with I must explain a bit about Wizarding custom you might not be aware of. When Mr. Black was made your guardian he was made your guardian, magical or otherwise, should your parents fall. The position involves a dormant bond that can be activated should the parents wish it. The bond would in fact make you the magical son of Mr. Black in the event of your parents' death. A magical guardian is only truly necessary in the first couple of years of a child's life. It absorbs excess magic that would otherwise leak out in dangerously uncontrollable accidental magic.Even the parents ofMuggle-born childrenalso unknowingly participate in this essential bondwith magical children.Even though Mr. Black was in Azkaban the bond was still active and since the bond was never contested by anyone it remained intact. The longer and earlier a bond is in effect, the more of the magical excess that is shared between guardian and child. Since you were orphaned at such an early age the bond was active long enough that you inherited Black family traits. While there are others with Black blood for all purposes you are his son and were named as such in his will.

"The Black's are an old Family that intermarried many of the purebloods, however it is only those in the last couple of generations that are named part of the Black family. Such as the Malfoy's, the Snape, the Cassione, the Vidalli, and the mixed Tonks. Malfoy and Snape are relations but they have their own lordships. Cassione and Vidalli are both Families that have intermarried with the Black family enough to always be considered 'cousins' of a sort. The Tonks family was disowned by the previous Blacks. Cassione live in their own estates except for a Black house in France. Vidalli are similar but they did make use of two of your summer homes, one in Portugal the other in Italy."

"Draft formal apologies to the Cassione and Vidalli families explaining that the Lord of Black has been reinstated. Invite the Tonks family into the Black legacy. I will send my own letters to them at a later date. Open those properties once more to the Cassione and Vidalli." Instructed Harry, he had to keep the conversation cold and informal or else his parting words would hold little effect.

"That is all I wish done at this time. Mr. Alextor I want to make something very clear, you are to talk to no one about me. I understand you cannot talk about my dealings but I also want it understood you cannot talk about me to anyone who asks, whether fan, Death Eater or Dumbledore himself. The Wizarding world is building itself up for a war; I will not have leaks about my doings. Is that understood?" Harry's face remained emotionless, his steel emerald eyes dancing with dangerous fire.

To his credit Alextor only paled a bit before nodding. "I understand." He said for good measure.

"Thank you, owl me if the Families relay any responses, or if you need my approval for any transactions but be careful with correspondence, there's more than just Voldemort that would love to poke at my mail. Better yet, just owl me that you have something for me and I'll come.

"Remember, I trust you do keep your professional courtesy at all times. If you ever betray me you'll learn exactly why Voldemort has failed to kill me every time."

Alextor wasn't a man for pleasantries so Harry left as soon as his business was done.

In the restroom Harry faced his reflection before exhaling explosively. Even he creped himself out; Alextor must be muttering something awful about him right about now.

Stretching his facial muscles out he finished off by sticking his tongue out. For Merlin's sake he was just a kid, barely seventeen but here he was terrorizing lawyers and building a platform from which to protect himself from the Ministry, Fudge, Voldemort, and Dumbledore. He didn't even want to think about who else had it in for him.

Thankfully his last solicitor was located in the same building, four floors up.

The Morrigan solicitor was an old woman named Eleanor Gibbins who had inherited the account from her predecessor, her father Elmer Gibbins who in turn inherited the account form his father. For all that time the account had only been activated during the early part of the century when a young half-blood inherited the account from his supposedly Muggle mother. He changed his name to suit his legacy and invested in numerous firms after it became clear he'd have no wizarding heir.

Some of the ventures were disasters but there where quite a few both in the Muggle world and Wizarding that turned out very successful.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you. Gibbins & Gibbins Law firm has maintained a firm policy with regards to keeping all accounts up to date." The woman was about the same age as his last solicitor, Alextor, but she had a much more pleasant attitude.

"I'm sure I'll find everything satisfactory. I have seen an overview of my Estate at Gringotts but I was told I would have to come to obtain the necessary paperwork to confirm myself as Morrigan's Heir."

"Of course, of course. I trust you have the Morrigan's Ring?" This was the first time the woman's pleasant demeanor fell and revealed a sharp-eyed woman that missed nothing as she studied Harry's bare hands. Harry thought he might just like her.

"Of course. You must understand that my position within the Wizarding world is very delicate. I can't exactly be parading the fact that I'm Morrigan's Heir, now can I?"

Ms. Gibbins offering him a sympathetic smile. The sharp-witted woman understanding immediately the kind of political weight Harry Potter would carry once he made it public knowledge. If Fudge found enough support he'd somehow use this against him. She was smart enough to read between the lines and see the personal vendetta Minister Fudge had picked up.

She studied the ring carefully; shooting an identification charm but never touching the ring. Family rings where tricky business; they sometimes took a mind of their own when handled by someone other than their Master and even then they were still temperamental.

Ms. Gibbins had already assembled all the necessary paperwork Harry had to sign. He didn't spent nearly as much time as going over compared to his first time, or his second time.

"Are you sure you wouldn't find it helpful to read over the statements you are signing?" Gibbins commented doubtfully after watching the young man sign his name carelessly in quick succession.

Pausing, Harry gave her an amused glance.

"I took the day to arrange my legal matters. My father's estate required me to go over much of the same paperwork. It was a headache going over it the first time."

Ms. Gibbins just shook her head; the boy would be Lord twice over. She had little love for the Minister after her husband had been imprisoned in Azkaban for three months during the First War because of suspected Dark activity. She learned to appreciate things that would rile the pompous fool.

"If only the public was allowed to Wizengamot sessions. It would make my day to see the Minister's face when he found out about your inheritance."

Harry gave her a surprised glance but smiled anyway.

"I plan on making his life interesting."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer man, dear. I've an idea of what kind of trouble you'll stir but I should warn you not to take on anything big for a while. I've learned to read between the lines but not many bother. I see what kind of agenda the Ministry has when dealing with you. Too many people are still wondering about your sanity to handle anything major coming from you."

Harry continued to sign but kept his attention on her. This was the kind of advice he needed. Too many of his honest friends were from the outskirts of society. He sometimes forgot what the majority was like since his mainstream friends didn't like to burden him with bad news.

"That means I have to put my plans to oust Fudge on hold?" Harry asked only half-serious.

"I'll drink for the day to come but you should first find your powerbase. The Lords are weary of jumping on things that come out of nowhere. As long as they see things building up they can prepare for it and offer support if they are so willing. Fudge might be an incompetent Minister but he is a deadly politician. He has ruined people for so much as speaking against him."

Harry bowed his head self-mockingly before giving her a bitter smile.

"Too bad he can't snuff out the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Despite the regular appearance of your name in the papers there's precious few times when you've talked publicly. You've still got credibility; problem is there's enough rumors floating around that can destroy you very fast if you make the wrong moves."

Harry signed the last paper, laying down the quill with a sigh.

"Ms. Gibbins you've been tremendous help so far. I have a couple of other matters I'd like to go over. To begin with I absolutely need my relationship to Morrigan to remain secret for the meantime. I've already the name Potter to get me into the circles where it would be useful. I understand my great-grandfather authorized a number of deals when he knew he'd not live to see a magical heir to Morrigan Since then, there have been no changes. I would like to authorize you to invest in promising ventures under the name of Lord Morrigan without revealing the connection to Harry Potter. For the time being, those two are going to remain separate. Have you been trained in Occlumency?"

"Of course, it is standard procedure for all solicitors dealing with high-level accounts to receive such training." Was the prompt reply.

"Interesting….", Harry mused. Harry would not let his anger born of Dumbledore's choice of instructor back in fifth-year rear its ugly head. There would plenty of time later. "Anyway, I'm too well known of a person to do certain things right now; too watched you might say. I need the anonymity of 'Lord Morrigan' for the time being. I need some paperwork floating around for the name Morrigan to have some legality."

"Hence the investments." she smiled shrewdly.

"Exactly! You might be hearing rumors about the Lord Morrigan, depending on where you have ears but I need my privacy for the time. Thankfully the Ministry only keeps track of the reigning Lord's name. Since my great-grandfather died in the Muggle-world under his birth name there should be no obvious connections. Or at least that's what I understand from the Family history and Ministry regulations."

"That is correct Mr. Potter."

"Please call me Harry. I'm trusting you with this and your silence means a lot to me."

"As you wish Harry. Officially my position as director of Gibbens & Gibbens prevents me from siding in this war but unofficially I hold little love for the Ministry and no sympathy for the Dark Lord. He-who-must-not-be-named fell because of you once already, he'll never gain complete power till he defeats you. So long as you live there will always be someone to oppose him if only because they know there is someone out there who he has not overcome. I'll keep what secrets you so desire."

"Wow…" Harry said. It made him uneasy that people looked up to him like that. But he was Slytherin enough to accept her help, even if he wasn't completely comfortable with her reasons.

"Thank-you."

Back at Hogwarts, Harry retreated to the Chamber of Secrets. It was time to put his plan into motion. With Amos and the Brungle werewolves help Harry had compiled an extensive list of clans belonging to wolves and vampires.

He'd investigated Veela society courtesy of Gabrielle Delacour but found it not very useful. They kept to themselves and where generally not interested in war. They where creatures of emotion.

He didn't have the manpower to sent a representative to ask for an alliance but he could show them his power though another way. Since the beginning of summer he'd been creating his messengers using the _nuntius_ charm. It was a very powerful spell that created a bird of the castors choice made up of an element. Incredibly useful since it was a bird of power with defensive capabilities that only allowed the recipient to intercept the message but a very draining charm to perform in the first place. Generally there was never a good reason to perform this type of message but for Harry's purpose it was god-send.

Most wizards couldn't even hope to create a _nuntius_ bird so of course Harry being Harry, meant he generally was able to create two or three a day and store them in crystals.

And that was limited only because Harry didn't want to appear exhausted in front of his minders.

By sending the charmed bird not only would he guarantee his message wouldn't be tampered with but he'd show his potential allies there was a third party out there powerful enough to create said bird. It would also rile them up when they heard about all the other birds being sent to fellow clans.

His letter was polite and straightforward. An offer of alliance or an option of neutrality. A promise of retribution should they think to cross his path. He proposed the building of information network at the least. He in turn offered his support and backing in mutually approved ventures within the Wizengamot. All signed under the name Lord Morrigan.

It was a tempting offer. Lord Voldemort didn't have the legality to promise that and Dumbledore didn't have the foresight. He most likely would use an argument of the lesser of two evils, a gathering against evil. The clans had their governments but they still answered to the Ministry of Magic. An organization in which they had precious few representatives. For them, the name Morrigan would cause a stir. Not only was it an old name, it also carried great power both financial and political.

He admitted to himself that his plan had only been half-baked in the beginning of the summer. He knew he needed contact with the magical clans; a network of information but he knew he couldn't to it under his name. He'd be stopped before he could draw out his plans. At first he was going to use a made up name but now it was even better having a name that was legal in everyway.

He was finally going to send his birds.

His first bird, an experiment more than anything was an ice phoenix, not all that solid but more of a creature of magic. He had used the charm not even knowing if anything would come of it. It was truly a beautiful creature. Unfortunately he couldn't use a phoenix without being associated with the Order. Instead he created a myriad of hawks, falcons, ravens, and owls. Despite their normal base they were everything but. From their beaks they spewed the element from which they where born of. Harry had chosen fire, wind, and ice simply because of their destructive capabilities. They seemed to shine with the magic of their creation, flickering very much like a patronus.

Besides vampires hated fire. All the more reason for them to pay attention to his offer.

It wasn't till the next day that Harry was able to venture into the Forbidden Forest; his satchel loaded with crystals that glowed red-orange, blue and white. There was a considerable amount and if it wasn't for a feather-light charm Harry would be feeling the long walk through the tunnels out of Hogwarts.

If anyone was looking from the towers of Hogwarts they would have seen the sky light up as dozens of winged creatures took to the sky, a parchment in their claws marked with the raven of Morrigan. Toward the clan leaders of the vampires, the alphas of the werewolves, and the goblin council his _nuntius _birds flew.

Unfortunately for them, they had long since laid to rest any suspicion of mischief born of one Harold James Potter, named on his birthday Lord Potter, Lord Black, Lord Morrigan, and Heir of Slytherin.

TBC...

REVIEW!

REVIEW! please?

Always interested in plot suggestions.

_A/N: No, Harry is not becoming either mini-Voldie or mini-Dumbles. Not evil, but not entirely good. _

_Things are slow right now. Building a support group._


	7. Shattering Glass

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and all related titles, characters, plots, and situations

**Shattering Glass**

**I**t was near the middle of August before Dumbledore remembered his Golden Boy. Harry had been bent over a book about the Dark Arts in the library when Fawkes appeared in front of him in a swirl of flame.

Harry had jumped wand ready in one fluid motion. Fawkes had merely crooned once and dropped a letter before nesting on Harry's head.

Harry shot it an annoyed look and then quit when it made him cross-eyed. The parchment was sealed with the Order's mark, a phoenix in flight. It was really a short letter but it served to ruin his whole day.

_Harry,_

_This is a portkey that will take you to Headquarters tomorrow at 10 o'clock. It is time to collect your school supplies._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry scowled down at the letter. What a marvelous idea. Cage the wonder boy all summer then throw him a bone right before it's time to meet him. He could only wonder at what the Headmaster wanted from him or what shocking news he'd break this time. With any luck Dumbledore might finally explain his inheritance in his own mind-baffling way.

Not bloody likely.

Sighing, Harry crumpled the letter into his pocket before trying to return to his reading, aware of the flying turkey that had decided to nest in his hair. Honestly, he had thought people where joking when they said his hair resembled a bird's nest.

He flipped a page in his Dark Arts book. He supposed he was lucky phoenixes couldn't read English.

**H**arry prepared himself for the stomach twisting disorientation he always got when he took a portkey. When next he opened his eyes instead of the red and gold dorm he was in a clean if antique parlor. It was empty with numerous soot marks around the fireplaces. Figuring this place to be where the floo was connected Harry wandered outside.

Voices echoed from the kitchen.

"But mum!" whined a familiar male voice.

"Ronald Billus Weasley! I said no and no it will remain. Merlin help us! This isn't the time to indulge in such a fancy."

Harry entered the kitchen without making a sound. Mrs. Weasley buzzed around clearing the table and setting it at the same time. With the constant flow of people, it seemed someone was always eating. Ron sat pouting but still stuffing his face. Next to him Ginny sat with a bored look on her face.

"Harry!" shrieked Ginny, blushing lightly.

"Hey mate!"

Then the world went dark as Mrs. Weasley buried him in a hug. Harry scowled into her shoulder. He _was _seventeen years old, yet he could barely see over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. Even Ginny would beat him soon.

"Oh dear! Sit right down and have breakfast. Merlin knows if you're eating properly with no one to watch over you."

Harry was literally pushed down and in a second he was faced with full plate.

"Yeah…..thanks? What was all the ruckus about?"

Ron regained his pout and Ginny sighed.

"This prat swears we won't be able to win the quidditch cup unless he gets a new broom. Mum won't buy it for him."

"Oh….Ron…." Ron would never change. His childhood had been protected and in protections name Harry's had not.

Harry ate silently listening to the siblings bicker. He sometimes didn't like being around them because they reminded him how old he was.

"So when are we going to Diagon Alley?" Harry finally asked.

"After lunch. We're waiting for our guards to assemble. Dumbledore said they'd be two of them." In other words, there would be another two or three skulking about pretending they weren't tailing him.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

"**H**arry, how have you been?" asked Remus softly. His skin was still a little pale from the last full moon and the constant air of weariness a little more pronounced. Harry was beginning to see the difference between his werewolf friends and Remus. Remus had never accepted the wolf, he spent too much of his life hiding and striving to be something he was not. The wolf did not like being ignored.

"As fine as can be expected. I didn't know you where back from your mission."

"Actually I'm still in the middle of it. I came back for the full moon."

Harry nodded. His other guard was surprisingly enough Tonks.

"Wotchar Harry."

"Hey Tonks, you're my other guard?"

"Of course, I even volunteered. Merlin forbid, but I think Snape was going to get the duty. I think he even smiled when I volunteered but I didn't dare ask him."

"Are we going to Gringotts first? I don't have any money with me."

"Dumbledore already took care of that. He said he got enough galleons for your school supplies and some pocket money for the year."

Harry gave them a humorless smile. Figures Dumbledore would keep him away from his vault. If he couldn't see it, he wouldn't question it. The longer he was kept away from the goblins, the more secure Dumbledore's powerbase would be. Plus it theoretically restricted his spending.

Remus continued on talking without noticing Harry's twisted expression but Tonks was watching him carefully. More closely than she'd ever had before. Harry gave her an odd look before remembering that her parents must have contacted her by now. The first open communication with the Black Family since Andromeda Black Tonks expulsion.

Remus headed back upstairs while the two stayed in the now empty kitchen.

"Something on your mind Nymphadora?"

Tonks scowled. "Hey kid don't call me that. And you can't distract me that easily." She moved about the kitchen serving both of them tea all the while caring an air of contemplation.

"You know what kiddo? Sometimes I forget you're not really a kid anymore. I come to the order meetings and I see some of your classmates, I hear them talk about girls or boys, quidditch, classes, and the gits of the world. I forget that you don't do that. We lock you up all alone save for a couple of old witches. Even so your world is full of Dark Lords, curses, death threats and all that lot. And we still think you are a kid."

"That's life."

"But it isn't! We're fighting for our way of life everyday and we're destroying yours. It's so easy to think you're a kid with no worries save the occasional Death Eater attack."

"My dear Nymphadora, what brought this about?"

"Don't call me that! And you know exactly what brought this about. My parents owled me two days ago. You're lucky it was two days ago. I was so mad when I heard and realized you must have left the grounds I was ready to floo Dumbledore. I came here looking for him and walked into Molly screaming like a banshee at Ron and Ginny. They had sneaked out to a club with one of Ron's mates. She sent them up to their room, grounded of course. And I remembered when I was their age. I gave my mum all sorts of headaches with the mischief I got into. Even though most of it wasn't my fault to begin with. And I realized we're pushing you into a box….and I think you're pushing out the only way you can."

Harry studied her silently. His face emotionless, his eyes alight with unnatural fire. Tonks shivered under his scrutiny. She wasn't sure which was more uncomfortable, Harry or Dumbledore's complete attention.

"Have you told anyone?"

"I was going to. But I started to think. You're my family, aren't you? My Lord and all that lot. And I think we've all failed you, the Order that is. We've tried keeping you a kid and that only forced you to grow up faster when you couldn't find guidance from us. We've made you stand alone when all we were trying to do was protect you. I've failed you twice, once as an Order member and another as a Black."

Harry just gave her an ironic smile.

"S'all right Tonks. I think that's what I was looking for. For people to start seeing how messed up things really where."

"And now? What will you do?"

"What I've always been doing. I'm living my life and I can't very well let everybody interfere in that."

"Kid, I got the feeling there's a lot going around you." Harry gave her a grin.

"What do you want me do to? It's the least I can do. My family might have been disowned but my mum never forgot she was a Black. I owe my Lord loyalty."

"The first thing you can do is never call me Lord. You're no idea how odd that sounds. The next thing is keep family matters within the family. I think you truly are beginning to see who I have become in the Order's shadow. But people are difficult that way; they will not believe what is in front of them till they are ready."

Tonks shook her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe none of us noticed. Mark my words, this is going to blow up in the Order's face. I'd hate to think how you felt when you found out you where Sirius' heir."

Harry gave her another mirthless smile. "Disappointed that no one would confess to what they all knew. I've always known. I haven't survived this long by being stupid."

Tonks flushed light pink, an odd contrast to neon green hair.

"Figures. You prove time and time again that you'll find every mess we keep away from you. Really, we've only ourselves to blame."

**A**fter the freedom of being Evan Mortifer, Harry found this experience incredibly restricting. If he had never found his alias, he never would have realized how coddled he was. Remus and Tonks where constantly around him. At least Tonks had the grace to look apologetic whenever she met his eyes. He had spotted his other two minders, incredibly nondescript, so much that they stood out. He didn't think he knew them by name, probably newer recruits.

It was incredibly boring. A quick trip to get his school books and some new robes. He had dropped Potions back in the summer of fifth year when he was sure that he'd kill Snape if they where in the same company for more than five seconds. Thankfully, at least for Snape, Harry was improving.

Ron and Ginny were with them but after they went to get ice scream, they met up with Stance Allenmere, one of Gryffindor's Beaters. Harry had given up Quidditch back in fifth year, though he might just try again this year. Last year had been a mess, more mentally than anything else. His head had been so twisted and confused he had done a couple rash things if only to preserve his sanity. Ron and Ginny, the Seeker that replaced him, build up a row about Quidditch with Stance, whose parents just rolled their eyes at him and wandered off.

"Remus? Tonks? I think I want to head back home. One of you can stay with Ginny and Ron. We will meet back up at the old pile of wood."

"Okay kiddo, Remus can go ahead, you look kind of tired. I'll stay with the munchkins."

Harry followed Remus back to the Leakey Cauldron. It just wasn't fun being out here where everyone stared at his bloody scar. Plus he wanted to be at Headquarters before Dumbledore got there. No doubt there would be a nice interrogation in front of a couple of Order members. They'd berate him for leaving Hogwarts but would completely forget to apologize for keeping Sirius' will from him.

_The glass cage he'd been placed in was cracking and there wasn't a spell strong enough to fix it._

**T**he house was mostly empty. It was still early in the afternoon and most of the Order was at their day job. Remus headed upstairs for a nap and Harry wandered into the Black library. The Blacks were no strangers to Dark Magic. Because of the house charms, no books could be removed from the library if the person in question indented to destroy it. It was safeguard the House had activated when the Order first tried. Now a day the library was mostly left alone by the adults and forbidden to the younger ones.

There was actually a ward in the library door, but because Harry was the Lord, there was no room in the house that would be locked to him. A fact he took delight in exploiting as he wandered from shelf to shelf.

There where truly some nasty books in here. He hoped the House wouldn't mind if he borrowed a couple for some light reading. He'd shrunk a couple that looked promising, three of which weren't even Dark Arts books. Someone should be proud of him.

He hadn't realized he had spent so much time in there. When next he took care, he found dinner had already been under way for ten minutes.

Cringing, Harry packed everything and cleaned his work area. He always wanted to make an entrance.

**T**he table was full, proof that an Order meeting would take place later. Harry walked in smoothly, refusing to mumble an apology or looking at the ground. This was _his _house and he would not apologize for anything.

A tingling from the Black ring made him wonder if the House or Ring agreed with him. He had been told family rings where strange, only surpassed by old magic houses.

"Good evening everyone." Harry said calmly, taking a seat next to Tonks and a witch he didn't know but recognized as one of his minders today.

"Harry dear, where were you? I sent the twins and Ron up to find you and they didn't see a thing. You almost missed dinner." Scolded the Weasley matriarch even as she put a plate in front of Harry.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, I merely lost track of time reading."

"You're starting the seventh year books already mate? Don't let Hermione hear." Ron said around a full mouth.

Harry smiled but didn't contradict anything he said. He figured he best eat. Dumbledore would be here soon and they'd finally face off. He needed to be prepared mentally. This was not the time to lash out like a child, he needed to attack like…..well like Dumbledore. He figured his Potter solicitor happened to mention the young man that came to collect his inheritance to the old coot. It would only make sense he'd be informed at Gringotts about his Black inheritance as well.

Let the show begin.

**D**umbledore arrived, neon robes and all. He greeted everyone and only took a cup of tea as dinner ended.

"Harry if you could stay a moment."

Harry just nodded his acceptance, ignoring Ron and Ginny's curious eyes as they where ushered outside but accepting Tonks hand from under the table. She knew what was coming as well. What Harry didn't know was if she would publicly support him. It was one thing to realize what a mockery of a life they had given him, it was another to go against the most powerful Light wizard, a man they'd respected since childhood.

"My boy, it has come to my attention that you left the wards of Hogwarts on your birthday. I understand you need your freedom but Voldemort remains a very real threat to your safety, a threat you seem to be taking entirely too lightly." Admonished Dumbledore, his eyes shinning with disappointment.

Any other time Harry would have looked down, ashamed of being reprimanded by a man he admired but pitied for his lot in life as the unofficial Leader of the Light. But there was only one option he was willing to take right now, he needed to wake them up.

"And what happens in less than a year when the wards of Hogwarts no longer protect me? What will you then?", commented Harry lazily to the obvious shock of anyone that was listening. After he spoke, pretty much everyone was.

"What happens in a couple months? What will you do? I don't intent to become a hermit in this house, waiting, watching for the day Voldemort finally strikes too close to home."

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" screeched the Weasley banshee.

Harry loved Mrs. Weasley enough that he felt bad about continuing. He shot her an apologetic look before continuing while Dumbledore seemed to be struck speechless. It might have not occurred to him yet that Harry would rebel.

"Harry, just because Voldemort left you alone last year does not mean he has left you alone completely. If you continue to make a target of yourself, he will act. He will attack where you are most vulnerable and those you associate with will fall pray to his rage."

Harry flinched slightly. He always felt guilty when people died by merely standing in between him and his attackers. And Dumbledore knew it.

"So what will you do next year? Next year I will have finished my schooling if I should so desire, I will leave Hogwarts though it will always feel like my first home. And I will live my life. Sirius taught me one thing when he died. Better a day under the sky, than a lifetime in a corner. Voldemort is the Wizarding World's bane. He was created in our negligence and just as every life that touched his molded him, so must every life that he touches correct his errors. I will not be held responsible for his actions, if Voldemort's power continues to spread it is only through everyone's blind eyes that he grows. Let the eyes that looked away pay the consequences."

Harry could feel the Order's shock, even Dumbledore seemed to lose his voice. He had never actually vocalized his ideals to anyone, instead he had followed others, agreed to their philosophy, whether Dumbledore's idealism or Ron's Slytherin bashing.

It was an awful thing to say, a hateful truth.

"Surely you don't think like that." Was Dumbledore's mournful comment.

"What will you have me to? Protect those that have never given me reason to offer such protections? Let them slander my name and hold my hand out to them as they slap it just so they might take it when they fear? I am not one to live off dreams."

Harry was half-concentrating on Dumbledore and half-wondering when he became such a good speaker. He hadn't lost his temper yet and his words actually made sense. Of course he couldn't hope to keep his temper forever but the longer the better.

"What have we to fight for if not for dreams. Your parents fought and died for a dream that was your future. Sirius fought for the dream to live free as your guardian. We all fight for a dream that is tomorrow."

"Don't use my parents and godfather's memory to twist logic with me! You cannot so easily hope to change the world I see. It is not that which we are discussing here anyway. My philosophy is my own. My activities on my birthday are my own. Tell me, how long did it take your little spies to inform you I'd made an appearance? By the way thanks for proving me correct, now I know who my informant was."

"Harry , this is no time to be rebellious. I had hoped you where mature enough to realize the dangers of playing such games during a time of war."

"And I had hoped your mind was not as touched for you to realize my life was given to _me_ to live! Not to anyone else." Mrs. Weasley was practically purple by now. Everyone else had yet to pick up their jaw after witnessing their leader being reprimanded by a seventeen year old boy.

"We are only trying to protect you, my boy."

"And failing miserably. You don't know what you should protect. I need protection from being the Boy-Who-Lived, I need training if I want to continue being the bloody Boy-Who-Still-Lives—"

"Language!" screeched the banshee.

"—I don't need protection from grief, I don't need protection from freedom, and I don't want protection that has made me who I am.

"Tell me, Dumbledore, why was I sent to Privet Drive after the only parent I could remember died when all I wanted was someone to hold me after a nightmare? Was your bloody useless wards worth night after night when I'd see veils, red eyes, and green lights?"

"I am truly sorry for how things turned out, at the time it was the only way to keep you safe from Voldemort."

"And who would keep me safe from myself? I wanted to die because I could not hold onto this world! My dreams pulled me into another and my nightmares pushed me all the same. I still don't know how I didn't just off myself that summer. It took me the whole year to work through my issues. None of my friends could help me, they'd never felt what I was going though. The Order that might have offered some support was too busy chasing shadows and dark marks."

Harry rose from his seat, finally releasing Tonks trembling hand. It was time they realized what their negligence had cost him. In the background the banshee wailed, this time in sorrow.

"I have done what I needed to do." Raising his left hand, the two Family Rings flashed with the magic that sang in their very core.

"I have accepted my legacy. I have learned to stand on my own. And I can no longer accept the protection you offer as it is now. I am Lord twice over because of my father and godfather, and in their memory I will fight the evil that plague this earth in what form they take. But I will not hide in the Light's idealism because it is what is wished of me. I have made my decisions and it is no one's right to stand between me and them."

_And his glass cage shattered_.

TBC...

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	8. Flights of Reason

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and all related titles, characters, plots, and situations

**Flights of Reason**

**Birds of Change**

**Beware his Treason**

**Break his Cage**

**A**mos Caliga never made a sound as he walked to the lakeside. The water glowed with the silver moonlight. On the banks a young man reclined leisurely on a large boulder. Raven-hair melted into the night and pale skin seemed even paler in the shadowy light. Two emerald eyes looked out into the expanse from an aristocratic face.

Harry made no sign he sensed the presence of the elder vampire and did not even flinch as the elder gracefully knelt by him, deadly fingers stroking his cheek in greeting till they slid to his chin and twisted his face so he met glowing yellow eyes head on.

"Greetings, Elder Amos Caliga." His voice was a soft whisper, smooth and refined. The voice of the Lord he was becoming.

"So formal child…. How unlike you."

Harry scowled.

"You ruined the moment." Harry could practically hear the whine in his voice. He refused to pout though!

"Aye, less you become a high and mighty before your time."

"I'm working on it."

"You'll succeed eventually, but in the meantime you might want to look into the immortal life."

"You certainly are a supportive friend."

"Never told you I would be."

"Humm……" Harry pouted. "How goes your clan?"

"Curious child, the clans are a stir this night."

"Anymore vague and I'd say you've been consorting with centaurs. What's got the pretty leeches in a twist?"

"Impudent child. There is a new Lord vying for ground among the darker creatures. Morrigan, a name of old."

"He any good?" It had been several weeks since his missive went out to the clans. He'd give them till the start of school before he sent another charmed messenger to retrieve his answers. Too bad the birds where really only good for the task that they where created for. The major benefit for such an exploit of power was the message's safety.

"Who knows, the clans are all gossiping like mortal housewives."

Harry paused for a moment.

"Amos, are you _sulking_?"

"I _am_ Amos Ferox Caliga, Rector of the Clan Caliga. I do _not_ sulk!"

"So you are sulking! No one paying attention to your oh-mighty presence?"

"As I was saying, it is certainly interesting. In my younger days I roamed with many a Morrigan blood though I never met the famous Ravenclaw. Her uncle, Thor the Twit, was certainly reincarnated into the child Nymphadora Tonks you rattle on about. Although he had no tact, it was miracle he lived as long as he did. I think he finally died after winning a brawl and tripping over a balcony…."

"I do not rattle! And you're babbling."

Amos sighed heavily. "Very well, after all I only spent the last couple of weeks repeating the same thing to every fanged creature that asked me, I might as well repeat it for my little mortal child."

Harry scowled. He _would_ grow one day!

"They came in the beginning of the month. I was talking to the Rector of Heryk, Amrys Yhjine, when two creatures of magic, birds of power, came to us. You live as long as I do you see most spells at least once. This was the _nuntius _charm, the messenger. Useful but draining bit of spell work. They delivered the message, certainly a startling offer Lord Morrigan was sending. We were all so busy with the news very few noticed when the birds…didn't fade."

Harry jerked slightly. That was not a property of the _nuntius_ charm. They fated once their job was done!

"It can't possibly still be around!"

In response, Amos let out sharp whistle. The air in front of him shimmered; a raven seemed suspended in the air. Like a silvery patronus frozen in the sky.

Then the creature sent out a pulse of magic and light. Translucent wings beat once. A ripple of magic originated from its beak, flowing down its body. With a cry it was free. It fluttered around for a bit before settling on Amos shoulder.

It was as beautiful as the first time he had seen it. To his utter amusement the bird began displaying some very Hedwig-like behaviorit started preening Amos' dark hair.

Amos cast the child a dark look, just daring him to laugh.

"They have stayed since first I laid eyes on it. I know of no spell that could conjure such a specimen as Ravenlight here."

"Ravenlight?" Harry asked hiding a grin.

"You try being shadowed by a creature constantly. At least I haven't started talking to it yet. One of my children tells of the Elder Varien. He was ambushed by troublesome wizards. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem except he was already injured resolving a challenge to his position. Alone he would have perished. But he had a _nuntius_ fire-born owl that attacked as if it where defending her own nestling. Now Elder Varien keeps it by his side talking to it all day. At least his young have peace from his incessant chatter. You'd think that immortal would eventually run out of things to say!"

Harry chucked in amusement. He definitely concentrated too much on Hedwig when he did the charm.

"A pleasure then, Ravenlight, wind-born raven."

The owl hooted with obvious affection. Harry gave it a strange glance. What exactly did he end up doing to the charm? This wasn't normal. Even by his standards.

"So my child, care to explain why exactly you have taken the name Morrigan?"

Harry scowled. Figures Amos would connect all the little clues. Only Harry could warp such an old and established charm.

"Because it is my name."

Amos yellow eyes stared at him unblinkingly, his face impassive. Anyone else would have given him no mind, but Harry could tell by now Amos, centuries-old vampire, was confused.

Harry sighed.

"My father's blood named me Potter, my godfather's love christens me Black, and my mother's ancestors have always named their sons Morrigan." _And my enemy willed me Slytherin._

Amos gave him an amused glance, a twinkle in his eyes all too reminiscent of some familiar mischievous twins.

"If only the Elders knew what I know. They where all so very impressed with the spell work, intrigued by its resilience, attracted by the show of power. All the _nuntius_ that came to the clans at once was a very strong show of power. But if they should learn that their Lord Morrigan is none other than the Boy-Who-Lived, Lord of Potter and Black. My, my…."

Harry gave him a glare he'd spent considerable time gleaning from Snape back in their potion days.

"And they will not learn of it from our favorite leech."

"Me? Why this is too much fun. No hint will come from me so long as I'm invited to your grand entrance."

He just sighed. Elder Vampires where so jaded. And apparently silly with age.

"What kind of response should I expect?"

Amos was silent for a moment, proving exactly why he had outlived so many of his brethren.

"In a world where the battlefronts are closing in on us Lord Morrigan might just be our rallying point. The only thing needed now is some widespread recognition of said name. You have to prove you can fight and win."

Harry couldn't afford anything else.

"**P**rofessors, Headmaster." Harry nodded his greeting to McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore never pausing for a moment. Snape sneered and the other two called out their own greeting.

The Order meeting had been two nights ago and they where all still raw from the backlash of Harry's anger. Since then they had all kept their distance, probably hoping Harry would calm down before they approached him.

Fools.

All of them.

They where committing the same mistakes as they had last year. Letting him brood so his wounds would merely scab.

Harry was almost around the corner when he swung around. He wouldn't let history repeat itself.

"Headmaster, if you would be so kind as to arrange a meeting between us sometime this week?"

Harry only waited for Dumbledore's nod before he spun away. Even as he walked, Snape's indignant voice echoed in the corridor.

School would commence in little more than a week.

He might have failed Divination but he had a feeling this year would be unlike any other.

He hated being right sometimes.

**I**t figured Dumbledore would bring in the reinforcement. Sometimes Harry wondered if Dumbledore would do nothing but repeat history. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Harry and the child Tom Riddle where eerily alike, orphans, neglected, abused, with a thirst to prove to the world that they where worth something, whether in the guise of Dark Lord or Savior.

Harry couldn't let himself be dragged down that path.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well as Professor McGonagall sat in a half circle around the Headmaster. Snape hovered in the shadows like the overgrown bat everyone called him.

"Harry, we where just finishing some Order business. If you could give us a moment."

Harry nodded; his face carefully bland as he tried to analyze everyone's motive. The Weasleys where there to reign him in, his affection for them a tool in Dumbledore's hand. Especially since they where so used to following him, they practically bred him an army. McGonagall the Fair, the impartial voice of reason, his Head of House that was Dumbledore's closest ally among the year round staff. And Snape, the antagonist. Angry lips let words loose more easily than a calm mind.

He cringed at the number of times he'd been called before the three members of staff and been played so easily. That was perhaps the only reason he understood everyone's part there. Without that familiarity he'd probably miss the subtleties that would play out.

He had to keep his temper and be wary of the concessions he'd most likely unwittedly make.

"Harry, I'm terribly sorry for not offering you a lemon drop? Perhaps you'd care for some tea?"

Exasperation flickered across Harry's face before it fated back into his unreadable mask.

"No, thanks Headmaster. I requested this meeting because I feel it is time we clear the air between us. It would do for a very unpleasant year otherwise."

Dumbledore beamed at him. Harry eyed him wearily; the lavender moon and sun robes did not help the image of sanity.

"Lets be methodical about this, I ask questions and I hear explanations."

"Typical Potter", sneered the Potions Master, "your arrogance is only on par with your fathers. The Headmaster is not here for your pleasure. But then again Potters have never been known to consider anyone else."

The others gave muffled protests and Dumbledore chided him gently.

"This meeting will also continue with as little Snape—"

"—Professor Snape, Harry—"

"—interference if he wishes to be here. I've no need to talk to him and no reason to include him but I will humor you and allow him to stay."

Snape pale skin flushed and the angry words that burned behind his eyes where only silenced by the look Dumbledore send him.

"Tell me Headmaster, why was my inheritance kept from me? You where the wizard in charge of my parents estate when Sirius was incarcerated."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, age apparent in his face. Harry remained impassive.

"Harry, every year you come into these halls and every year it pains me to see more burdens added to your shoulders. I could not bare to place even more demands that no child should have to hold on you."

Harry merely frowned. Times like this he was glad he'd done Occulmancy privately last year. It help detach himself.

"You do not become possessed by the Dark Lord and expect childhood to welcome you back. You do not expect to live as long as I have by clinging to fancies."

Behind him Mrs. Weasley muffled a wail, but Harry would not say anything less than the truth just to appease her sensibilities.

"Since the day I heard how my parents once came here I have been eager for any remnant of their past. Did you think knowing about their vault would have been a burden? Did you think it would have hurt me to know that one day I would wear the ring that my father and his father wore? I know you tried to protect me from money-hungry politicians but you denied me the links to my past. The precious few mementos that I have of the people who gave birth to me and who died serving your precious Order."

Dumbledore's eyes where clouding with guilt.

"I am terribly sorry. You where so young I could not help but try to protect you in any way I could, as your parents would have wanted."

Harry's lips tightened at the mention of his parents but he let it pass. Better to pick his battles. Behind him Mr. Weasley reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder, his other arm busy comforting Mrs. Weasley's watery form.

"Did you ever think to tell me about Sirius' inheritance? The only thing I had of my godfather was a broken mirror and broom I dared not use for fear of damaging it. I know and appreciate you trying to protect me from more grief, but grief is not something you or I can control. We all suffer from it and we all must let it pass if we want to move on. He was my godfather and I loved him every second I had him and miss him every second I don't, but he was not my life or the end of it."

"I can only beg forgiveness for any transgression you feel I have committed. The years have not been kind do you; we merely wished to spare you some unnecessary grief,"

"I understand your reasons but every time you try to protect me you push me away, you hurt me without explaining, and everyone lets you because you are the Leader of the Light. There are many things I can rage against right now but no doubt they'll become clearer with time. I can say all I want but no one will truly believe me till they see it for themselves. I've only one last thing to say."

Harry breathed in deeply, reaching for his meditation techniques when all he wanted to do was smash all his babbles and claw out the twinkling eyes that seemed to say how proud he was of Harry for talking calmly. Like his transgressions didn't matter.

"I don't think I will ever forgive you for the Dursleys."

McGonagall threw in a sharp breath as Harry met Dumbledore's mournful eyes.

"I am sorry they died. I truly did believe the wards would have kept them safe."

Harry blinked slowly. He blinked again. Oh……there went his temper……

"By Circe! That not what I meant! Are you naturally this blind or does this only apply to me! Have you lived so long that your wits have failed you? When you placed me there sixteen years ago did you have even a faint idea of what kind of people they where? Did you believe once the demon was vanquished we'd live a fairy tale ending?"

By now Harry's eyes where shinning with power born of anger, flames lashing cruelly within the irises. His voice had steadily risen till he was all but screaming.

Snape would have shut him up right about now if not for the fact his hair was standing on end because of the magical discharge from the teenage boy.

Slytherins did have preservation instincts after all.

"I blame you for every year under their roof and every summer you made me return. It would have been kinder to have given me to Snape to raise. At least then I would have known why I was hated." Harry finished in a deadly whisper that was brittle and sharp, a mask that hid the pain of a strangled childhood.

"At least then I would have never had to wonder why my family didn't like touching me save to remind me of my place."

Harry sat down never realizing he had gotten up in the first place. From behind he was enfolded in the only arms that he had ever felt give him the affection of a mother. He felt hot tears against his neck and a soft murmur of comfort near his ear. He blinked over bright eyes as he studied the Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked sad and shocked. Regretful with guilt in his eyes.

Behind him McGonagall's eyes where bright, a knowing glint not hidden by the pity that shown clearly. McGonagall had at least suspected.

He didn't bother looking at Snape. The man had seen his memories for Merlin's sake! But Harry understood his blindness. Decades old grudge blinded him from seeing the whole picture that the scraps of torment added up to.

Sharp emerald eyes studied the Headmaster relentlessly. He saw emotions swirling in those blue depths.

But never the one that mattered.

There where plenty of '_sorrys_' for having to suffer the consequences, for matters of trust.

There was no sorry for committing the crimes in the first place. Sorrys for the damage they caused but no sorry for stepping into his life and tweaking it like it was his on personal violin.

Still Harry searched.

And still he could not find what he wanted.

He closed his eyes wearily, wishing he was back in his dorm room. And he had do wonder if Dumbledore had managed to hurt him even more than those whose hands where stained with the blood of his loved ones.

So he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to be disappointed again.

TBC...

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Next Chapter: School begins andVoldemort dreams...(that kind of rymes)


	9. Heir of Shadows

"See my soul in your shadow, see my life in your eyes, see my destiny in your hands.

As I was created, so shall you be forged."

**Heir of the Shadows**

**H**is sleep fogged mind fell deeper into the abyss that was a point and an eternity all in one second.

_Seven-year-old Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't dare make a sound. The hands on his upper arms where painfully tight and the laughter of the other boys held no mercy. He clamped his mouth shut as he stumbled, earning a gash on his knee that would later scar. Tom was pulled up so fast that for a moment his feet dangled in the air._

_There where lessons you learned early in life. No one would hear you, no one would help you. There were plenty of people that could of course, powerful people that could take his nightmares away. Too bad there weren't any that cared to._

_He didn't make a sound as he was dragged by the older boys from the dormitory, the rows of beds silent with sleeping orphans. If any where awake they knew better than to speak out. You learned quickly the only way too survive was to keep your head down._

_Down the empty hallway and into the open crisp air. He almost wished the Overseer would wake from his nightly drunken stupor. At least then he knew what would happen to him._

_These boys where a different matter._

_In terms of orphans they were old. They would live the rest of their 'childhood' within these walls before being thrust out into the world with only a few pounds to their name. _

_Of course they where bitter._

_And they made sure everyone was aware of it._

_Tom didn't give them the satisfaction of crying out. He wouldn't plead with them. He wouldn't ask for mercy._

_They could humiliate him, could hurt him, but they wouldn't take his pride. _

_He recognized the area he was being let to as being behind the orphanage. Summer had already killed any type of greenery that dared grow in such a dreary earth. Broken toys where discarded randomly showing years of use and misuse._

_One of the older boys moved on ahead and Tom paled as he opened the rusted doors that let into the seldom used cellar._

_Silent tears fell from his eyes. _

_**Not the dark. Not the dark. Help me. Not the dark. Please not the Dark!** _

_It was only then that he began struggling in earnest. His limps flaying wildly, elbowing one of his handlers sharply. It didn't save him._

_A few blows later his body was dumped into the cellar. Stumbling down the stairs Tom sprang from his position on the ground only to watch as the cellar doors where slammed shut, a heavy scraping of metal against metal indicating he was now locked inside._

_Pale moonlight filtered in though a crack and Tom wrapped skinny arms around himself as he glanced at the darkness around him uneasily._

_It would be two days before he was reported missing, three before he was found._

In Gryffindor Tower Harry stirred uneasily in his sleep. Twisting to escape some unpleasant vision conjured in his dreams.

In Riddle Manor Voldemort frowned in discomfort. His rest plagued by memories he'd tried to bury every day anew.

_Six-year-old Harry James Potter froze. Emerald eyes wide and watchful. They were the eyes of a trapped creature who watched for the next blow to fall. _

_Small hands stilled at his side and his breathing slowed. Everything fated save the red face of his uncle in front of him and the beefy hand clamped around his neck. _

_The hand was tight but not restricting. Terrifying but not harmful. Like it had always been and hopefully always would be. His uncle dare not harm him permanently for fear of discovery and for that Harry was grateful. _

_Even when he was terrified out of his mind that his uncle small mercy would end._

_Harry's body answered the tugs his uncle exerted on him. Never resisting and never crying. Harry knew how do deal with his uncle. His uncle held no mercy if the 'freak' resisted against anything Vernon felt was his due._

_His body stumbled to the ground as he was shoved into his cupboard. His back colliding with the side of his cot. Bright emerald eyes watched as the door was closed, a second later the little bolt was drawn locking Harry in his dark corner._

_His body crouched on the ground, his eye level with the little sliver of light that shone under the cupboard door._

_He couldn't see them but he could hear them. Vernon and Petunia praising their little Duddums, promising marvelous gifts Santa was sure to bring._

_And in the darkness tears marked dirty cheeks. His face pressed against the floor, thin fingers wiggling under the door almost as if trying to reach an impossible dream. Was it so difficult to love him he often wondered in those moments. He wouldn't ask for much, wouldn't even care if he had no presents to open tomorrow. So long as they let him sit in the warmth, let him hear their voices free of distain._

_**Don't hate me. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me**._

_In his darkened corner tears continued to fall, his throat tight with his suppressed pain. Emerald eyes bright in the gloom, screaming all the pain and rage his mouth would never utter._

_They forgot him that Christmas eve as would they tomorrow when they shared in the holiday's festivities. It wouldn't be till breakfast needed to be made in two days that they retrieved their wayward charge._

Memories and dreams tore at the ill-fated connection born sixteen years ago. Barriers and shields created by both parties where torn asunder as two men woke simultaneously, eyes wide, searching for long gone tormentors.

Voldemort's ruby eyes burned into his mind.

"You begin to see what you wished not true."

Emerald eyes gazed back in defiance.

"What is it?"

"That night I cursed you only to be broken I marked you in more ways than a magical bond and a silly scar. I made you my Heir."

"Just because you gave me some of your powers is no reason to name me thus. There are truer ways to mark one."

Harry sensed Voldemort's amusement.

"You haven't the luxury to lie to yourself, my heir. When I took the life of your parents I gave you mine. I gave you the childhood that made me, I marked you in the magical world drawing attention to you just as Dumbledore had been drawn to me fifty years prior."

Voldemort's voice took on an air of remembrance, slightly detached.

"He knew that which flowed in my veins since before I was born. It was he that orchestrated the meeting of my mother's bloodline to my muggle father. He foolishly thought that the Muggle blood would dilute the power of Slytherin. Slytherin blood can not be swayed in such a manner, even you who claim the name, willingly or not, through a magical bond carry the gifts of Slytherin strongly. Each time we meet I mark you more mine than before and you prove the very traits Slytherin prized above all. In your first year you would not bow to a master. In your second you walked with the serpents, speaking their tongue. In your fourth we where bound even more tightly when I took your blood. In your fifth year you shrugged off the mantle of subservience that the holy leader of the light kept you under. You have an ambition as strong as mine, though yours is nobler than mine I suppose."

"What ambition is that?" was his wary question.

"Your desire to stay alive has proven greater than any I had met before."

Harry let a contemplative silence envelope him.

"It was simpler when I was younger. I only had to worry about a half-dead Dark Lord. I knew my enemy back then."

"Who is your enemy now?" asked Voldemort with true curiosity.

"I sometimes have to wonder who isn't."

**TBC…..**

**Special Thanks: Porcelain Power, LunaShadows, Hermione the Slayer and MadEyes. **If you hadn't reviewed early on I wouldn't have continued with my little ditty.

Ehh?...it is my first story after all.

**Thanks to all my other reviewers! It encourages me to update**

**REVIEW! ...oh yeah...and READ.**


	10. Gryffindor Lion

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

**Gryffindor Lion**

**T**he wind carried the first chill of the autumn months. High on a Tower's turret Harry gazed down upon the long line of carriages that would bring the returning Hogwarts students. Far off to the side, the lake glowed under the half-moon. A small swarm of lights bobbing up and down upon the surface. The little first years where coming to Hogwarts.

It all seemed so far away at that moment.

A light breeze danced through messy locks and emerald eyes glowed like a fated killing curse. His Gryffindor robes was stiff, the new material still starch with the common cloth preservation charms. He never wore the student robes during the holiday; it was only so long before one started to grimace at the thought of black robes. Idly, Harry wondered if he managed to live as long as Dumbledore if he would end up wearing yellow polka-dot robes as well.

His mind returned to the present.

For now, his isolation would end and he would once again be their Boy-Who-Lived. He would be who he had to be for the moment. He would just have to be careful not to harbor his anxieties within himself as was his habit, nothing good ever came of that.

Amos Rule of Thumb: if they annoyed you, hex them.

Amos did always say it was a great way to work off tension, of course he recommended sex and blood letting as well.

_Vampires_, Harry snorted in amusement.

**I**t would be fate's joke that the first student Harry saw was none other than the Slytherin Prince himself, Draco Malfoy.

And it never occurred to Malfoy to keep his mouth shut when faced with Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Lion.

Gryffindor Lion, yet another name to add to his collection. Named for the fierce temper that was his trademark in fifth year. His house had taken it upon themselves to learn how volatile Harry was on any particular day. They might be Gryffindors but even they had preservation instincts. He wondered how red Snape's face turned when he heard that particular pet name. It was fortune indeed the two rarely met. Mayhap Dumbledore had some common sense in that batty head of his.

"Potter, still alive? I could have sworn someone would have rectified this little problem by now."

"Now, now, Malfoy. Just because your father can't seem to catch me and just because your Master doesn't seem able to kill me is no reason to bring up their failings. I'm sure it's not for lack of desire. Tell me Malfoy, did Daddy come home all crucioed lately?" Harry spat back with a decidedly irritating grin on his face.

Malfoys were trained to react to body language above all else, as a result their political success was often viewed as a product of their quick wits. Unfortunately, it was also their most obvious failing if one knew how to use it.

For a second Malfoy stood there stunned and confused. Harry's body language was cheerfully sickening but his words held uncommon spite.

"Come now Malfoy, where's your silver tongue? Or have you gotten your uniform and adopted a forked tongue?" The grin never left his face.

"Mark my words Potter, you'll be dead before the year is over. The Dark Lord will deal with you soon enough and then you'll wish you'd never lived past your first birthday." Malfoy hissed.

Harry made a show of looking around, they where off to the side of the Great Hall entrance. A few curious students looked their way but no one was willing to get in between Malfoy and Potter.

"What a public place to declare your allegiance Draco. How unwise of you. What use are all the lessons your father stuffed into your head now? How disappointing." Harry purposely adopted a mild reprimanding tone. A tone much like Dobby had said the younger Malfoy was chastised in by his father. If there was one thing Harry had learned last year after the incarceration of Malfoy Senior was the utter devotion Malfoy had for his sire. A word of approval would levitate the blond boy to the havens while a reprimand would crush his heart.

Such background information resulted in one thing apparently. A heavy flush that seemed to grow from the blonde's neck upward.

"Don't you dare say a word about my father. Especially since you've so little experience dealing with fathers."

**:Watch yourself little serpent: **Harry hissed at him for his own curiosity in Parseltongue. If they'd met their Master by now, they would have learned nothing good ever came out of a parseltongue's mouth.

To his amusement Draco paled dramatically as did his two silent goons.

"Been kneeling at your Master feet Malfoy? You shouldn't be so startled, Voldemort's not one to ignore Slytherin's gift."

**:Be a good boy: **Harry hissed at Malfoy's retreating back. If anything Malfoy walked even faster.

Even Malfoy's parting glare did not seem to penetrate Harry's bemusement. Perhaps he would spent the year hissing at those that annoyed him. So long as no one turned up petrified he should be able to stay out of Azkaban.

Harry smirked cruelly in his direction. The watching students stared at him nervously; although most were more concerned about Malfoy's predicted retaliation. The pureblooded inbreed did not take it well when he lost, whether a verbal spar or Quittich game. Someone would pay tonight.

"Oi! Harry! Mate! Over here!" Harry was startled at the loud exclamations, the influx of students didn't allow him to search for the speaker. Which is why it came as a surprise when a warm body barreled into Harry, propelling him to the ground. Instinctively Harry twisted his body so he landed on top of his attacker. And he promptly met the startled eyes of Seamus Finnegan.

"Seamus….." Harry sighed. A wicked smile bloomed on his face after a moment. From his position on Seamus stomach Harry leaned in closer to the Irishman.

"Are you going to make it a habit of yours to jump unsuspecting students?"

Seamus blushed but did nothing to stop the answering grin on his face.

"That is Plan B. In effect only if they say no." teased the Irishman.

"Lovely spectacle you've made of yourself Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Potter." Startled the boys looked up and met the laughing face of Dean Thomas.

Harry did nothing to rectify the situation. Conversationally he asked Seamus.

"You reckon we should get up?"

Seamus adopted a look of deep thought.

"I figure we could have dinner out here, nice and private. Be first in line to the dorms later."

The students around smiled. Then they laughed as Harry let out a yelp when a pair of hands wove under his arms and hauled him up like some wayward child. Dean shared an amused glance with Harry before he rolled his eyes and let him go. Neville bent down and hauled Seamus up.

"Honestly, overgrown prats. I've a warm dinner waiting for me." With that Dean spun around and stalked into the Great Hall. The trio of boys trailed him obediently.

"Hey Dean, you do remember there's a considerable amount of runts in need of sorting."

"Don't remind me" was Ron's passing comment as he walked with his Quittich friends. There was only one thing Ron treasured above Quittich and that was food. Harry just rolled his eyes.

There where definitely a lot more first years than Harry had seen before. Sadly Harry realized his year was made of the survivors, the children of parents who dared conceive during the height of Voldemort's power. They where born under a bright Mars as the centaurs would say.

"So many little runts." Moaned Seamus with a morose look at his empty plate.

"Pass the time wisely." Harry reprimanded lightly, his eyes traveling over the first years. "Bet you a sickle that blond girl with the pigtails is a Ravenclaw."

Seamus grinned. "Bet you that little runt with his nose in the air is a Slytherin."

Dean glanced at the kid in question. "That kid practically has 'Made in Malfoy' stamped on him. Not much of a gamble for an Irishman."

The three boys snickered while Seamus pretended to look affronted.

Glancing at them Harry couldn't help but marvel at their easy friendship. He had always been so isolated with Hermione and Ron, he had failed to really get to know his housemates. It didn't help that Hermione's know-it-all forcefulness made her little friends among the students.

It wasn't that he didn't treasure their friendship, he knew without them his life would have been a bigger mess than it already was but Harry had long since realized the trio had begun to stifle each other.

They where really too young to be as involved as they were in Harry's yearly trysts with death. He knew they really tried to be there for him. They tried so hard after Sirius' death that they eventually began to push him away unknowingly. It was too stressful for him to confide in either and their frustration at Harry's continual distance let to the deterioration of their close friendship. Harry wasn't in any state to deal with Ron's jealousy over the fears that had infected his mind over Sirius' hushed up will. He also didn't think he would be able to take any Hermione-like interrogations only to be assigned some self-help book to deal with his grief.

It had been then that Harry began spending time with Neville. He allowed Harry to retreat into silence and disappear when need be but was always ready to listen when Harry had finally begun to sort the mess in his head.

Neville was such an unassuming character it was easy to forget he had at one time or another had gone though much of what he himself dealt with. And as the only two would-be-Lords in Gryffindor, they would both face much the same tasks. Their lives could have so easily been switched Harry sometimes reminded himself with awe and envy.

Neville's calm presence was soon offseted when the new duo began hanging out with Seamus and Dean. Harry quickly learned to appreciate the newly formed group last year when Death Eaters' attacks grew in number and people began looking once more at the so-called 'Hope of the Light'. The trio never asked about Voldemort in detail, knowing that Harry needed some reprieve from all the people that hounded him. They protected him when prats crouched upon his space and covered for him when he needed to disappear.

Funny that three underage wizards should figure out what the Order of the Phoenix even now failed to grasp. Something that Hermione and Ron failed to grasp at times during their long friendship. These where the demons Harry needed protection from.

**F**ourteen new Gryffindors and three deserts later the small group of boys hauled themselves up for the endless trek up stairs to Gryffindor Tower. They took the time to loudly bemoan the appointment of Draco Malfoy as Head Boy. Stifled laughs erupted around them as they gathered the attention of the crowd. Ignoring Hermione's frowning face, the group began to sing a little ditty in honor of the Slytherin Prince.

"There was a Slytherin boy!" Bellowed Seamus.

"Who had Daddy buy all the toys!" Hollered Harry, a smile never leaving his face.

"And shoved money around to become Head Boy!" Added Dean, more than a little silly after trying to beat Seamus in a pie-eating contest.

"B-but we'll t-teach him he hasn't a choice!" yelled Neville in a rare moment of boisterous.

"But to bow down when the Gryffindors make noise!" finished off Seamus to the applause of their audience.

The boys took up the chant all the way to Gryffindor Tower, each time yelling the last line a little bit louder. By the time they arrived most of the accompanying Gryffindors where bellowing it out in their own sweet dulcet tones. The first years no exception and Hermione now wore a permanent frown.

Harry smiled, pleased with himself.

The first years had been thoughtfully corrupted against Draco Malfoy.

Strictly educational.

"**N**ev? Did you buy the robes?" Harry asked as he pulled his robe off and struck his head into his pajama top.

"Yes, my Gran took me to buy my hereditary robes two weeks ago. It wasn't easy convincing the seamstress to give me a clean set but Gran can be quite forceful when she wants to be. Gran said it was a shame none of the professors had the decency to escort you personally…I'm not sure if I was supposed to keep the whole thing a secret but I couldn't have gotten them without her help. I hope that's alright Harry?"

"No worries Nev. With my luck I'd probably have been sent with Snape. Thanks for getting them for me and don't forget to thank your Gran as well. The first Wizengamot session begins in a couple of weeks and I'd never have lived it down if I showed up in my school uniform."

"I have the robes in my trunk you if you want them now."

Harry glanced at the empty beds, glad that the rest of the boys where still in the common room enjoying their last day of freedom.

"It probably would be best. Who knows when we'll be alone again."

Neville stumbled slightly as he opened the trunk at the foot of his bed. Under books and standard school robes was a light package wrapped carefully in paper.

Harry unwrapped the package and was met with two silvery lengths of cloth. On further inspection one was the inner robe, a tight fitting robe with a high collar and no sleeves, and the other was the loose formal outer robe that would eventually display his family's crest. Currently all that Harry saw was a finely made silvery robe with no identification mark.

"The seamstress said in order to bring out the family crest you had to put the robes on and place your Family or Heir ring on at the same time. The hereditary robes' magic activates when it connects to the ring and the crest is then projected. You do have your ring, don't you Harry?" Neville said nervously. He barely remembered that Harry might not have known how the robes' magic would work and would not have taken possession of the Potter ring.

"Interesting. I have wondered how they made the individual crests appear." Harry mused aloud. "No worries Nev, I already have my Family ring." _And a couple others _Harry added silently.

He folded the silvery material once more, not bothering to fish out his rings for fear that Neville might accidentally see two rings Harry didn't want to reveal anytime soon.

He didn't feel like dealing with _that_ mess even when it came out according to his plans.

Meddlesome founder bloodlines. A thousand years later and their names where about to make the forefront of wizarding news once more.

TBC…..

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**AN**: **Story is finally moving along! cries I never thought the day would come!**

**Thanks for Reviewing so far. For all those just tuning in this is the deal: you review I write. Gives me incentive. And yes, I have no shame.**

**I've been reading over my story and my most common mistake is 'where' in place of 'were'. I'll be watching for it but I still do it a lot. Sorry in advance,**

**Do all those that have threatened to hunt me down if I stopped writing: waves hands around "this is all a dreammmm" **

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	11. A Gathering of Insanity

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of

**A Gathering of Insanity**

**D**umbledore beamed at Harry from his seat in the Head Table. No one had overlooked the change in Harry Potter at the beginning of term. To all watching Harry seemed…happier. This was not the angry fifth year or the brooding sixth. This Harry seemed more like the sweet child that first came as an eleven year old except not as shy. Some of the older teachers could swear James Potter was walking amongst them once more when they saw the messy-haired teen in the hallways.

The Order was careful not to break the peace that had descended after Harry's rage. They were aware he had come into his inheritance but had decidedly not questioned him about it. Harry figured that as long as they didn't bring him up for an interrogation Harry couldn't question them on Order activities.

Besides, their scrutiny had been directed elsewhere ever since rumors of the rise of a new Lord had begun to surface.

Few of the clans had allied with him as of yet but Harry was aware that a larger number than should be expected had yet to declare an allegiance. They where waiting for the Lord Morrigan to make his move.

Harry lived to create mischief in the plans of those that thought him a piece in their chessboard.

According to Amos the _nuntius _charm birds had not dissipated. Amos had been quick to declare his allegiance; after all he alone knew who exactly he was offering support to. He had told Harry directly but done the formality of sending back the _nuntius_ bird, his Ravenlight. Much to their surprise the bird had delivered the letter silently one night in the dorm room and flown back to Amos.

Both mortal and vampire had spent some time experimenting with his 'malfunctioning' charm birds. Harry was apparently able to call a specific bird to him but otherwise the messenger bird took on the added task of protecting the recipients of the letters. Amos theorized that because of the amount of power Harry wielded he had created a deeper impression than normal when he released the magic. Because he had created the messengers with his faithful Hedwig in mind the magic had then been shaped in such a way that the messenger birds became 'echoes' of Hedwig and where compelled to serve Harry and the 'master' Harry chose. Both were unsure on how long the magic would retain this shape before deteriorating into wild magic but since the birds still had the same power level as they did at the time of their creation Harry and Amos concluded that it would be a while before the birds faded.

Thus the phenomenon known as Harry's luck reared its head once more and the basis for his information network was created. A safe means to communicate that could not betray them voluntarily and would actively fight if intercepted. He wasn't fool enough to believe there wasn't a magical being out there that could overcome his charm but at least they would have to fight for it.

A few days after the first meeting with Amos since the _nuntius_ birds had been sent out Harry found himself in the Chamber of Secrets with a couple dozen crystals with an inactive charm and no purpose.

After some thought he sprouted a decidedly wicked grin and unholy light in his eyes.

Harry wrote a similar message to people and wizarding families that operated in the fringes of the Dark or Light powerbases as well as Neutral parties. Remembering his solicitor Eleanor Gibbins, Harry also sent messages to outspoken critics of Dumbledore, Voldemort, Fudge or all three that held powerful positions within the Wizarding world.

After that was done Harry wrote a couple more messages to magical creatures that though not essential to his plans would definitely hinder him if they chose to support someone in this war. Unfortunately Harry could only write to species that had some form of structure group. The hardest part he decided later on was translating his message into the appropriate language. If he meant to contact the banshees of France he figured they would be more inclined to pay attention if the message was in French. It was only after he translated his message into the giants tongue that Harry remembered why the Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix were such large _support_ groups. Thankfully the giants note was simple, written in as few long words as possible. The most troublesome one was to the centaurs where Harry had to resort to his Astronomy book as he sprouted baffling passages about Mars and Jupiter.

Even if they didn't choose to support him, he implored them to take a stance of neutrality. This war would not end lightly and it would cost all parties involved. When it was over those that choose their allies wisely would reap the most obvious benefits. Harry offered most of the magical beings an option of passively supporting him. This was mostly a trade of information. He also requested the aid of select individuals for offensive and defensive purposes to be determined carefully.

This was war and if Harry wanted to win he had to choose his battles carefully. The Order ran themselves ragged trying to protect every Muggle and witch as the Ministry Aurors ran themselves into a hole trying to protect the most influential personal under Fudge. The Death Eaters had the advantage of choosing who to attack but even they were occupied with protecting the physical seat of Voldemort's power.

Harry wasn't in the mind of surrounding himself with such obvious flunkies. This was war and Harry knew people would die. He couldn't be out protecting every person that met their end unjustly; he had to go for the head of the serpent so to speak.

Voldemort and Dumbledore both held worthwhile ideals even if said parties were more than a little insane. But Harry wasn't either of them no matter what they believed. Like Voldemort, Harry understood the dark aspects of society Dumbledore just would not see but he also knew the destruction of life was not the means to achieve the end.

Society would never truly change unless there was a spark somewhere to incite the change, a spark that would incite people to change of their own free will.

He could see the future that lay before them. Dumbledore fought for the status quo, the preservation of the bigoted wizards. Voldemort fought for the preservation of blood and of a pure world. If either won as they were now the world would still be segregated, the matter of blood still an issue, the magical beings still pushed to the fringes of the governing body that was supposed to offer some protection if not reasonable council.

Perhaps because Harry was muggle born and indoctrinated in the ways of the Light for such a long time he was able to choose to fight for an idealistic world that was greater than just the wizards who hounded him.

If he truly had no choice but to fight, he choose to fight for all the mythical creatures he had once upon a time dreamt about in a dreary cupboard.

The messenger birds were released collectively farther into the Forbidden Forest to avoid detection. Watching them fly off Harry smiled.

_Mischief managed_.

**T**he morning meal brought news of an attack on Beauxbatons, the French wizarding school. Because the wizarding world was for lack of a better word inbreed there wasn't a pureblooded there that didn't have some connection to the French sector of magic and consequently to students there.

On the wings of owls the Daily Prophet came depicting the ruined fields of Beauxbatons. The paper went on to give preliminary estimates. The attack had come just after the evening meal. The attackers had decimated the outside grounds, consequently killing a group of students that had gathered for an impromptu Quittich game. They fought their way into the school's Main Hall where they killed or injured another number of students as well as two teachers. The suspected Death Eaters then left but not before shooting a Dark Mark over the school.

His heart clenched uncomfortably and his throat tightened. The sweet face of Gabrielle Delacour floated in his mind, a young third year by now.

Harry frowned pensively over the paper. As sad as it was the loss of life at the French school wasn't important. This was a message to the wizarding world. Voldemort could attack where he pleased when he pleased. And there wasn't a strong enough safeguard that would stop him once he marked a target. Beauxbatons was a prominent enough school that it could have easily been Hogwarts in people's mind. The only difference was Hogwarts housed the Light's Albus Dumbledore, the Only-One-He-Ever-Feared.

Voldemort was playing a smarter game than before. Let the Light wear down Dumbledore with their pleas and hopes and when they finally met the old man would be too burdened with fears of failure to effectively fight him.

He was so lost in thought he didn't even realize the Great Hall had begun to fill till Neville, Seamus, and Dean sat around him effectively shielding him from curious eyes. Their faces where openly curious and Harry couldn't help but smile at them with appreciation.

He knew if he so much as lifted his head from his meal he would meet the gazes of other students. Normally that wasn't a problem but today their eyes would hold accusations.

'_You're the Boy-Who-Lived. Why couldn't you save them?'_

Dumbledore didn't have the luxury of looking away.

His friends might not know what happened but they had read the general mood and shifted into protect-Harry-from-everyone-else mode.

Their faces where pale as they read the paper. Quietly the boys finished their meal. They understood Harry didn't want to talk about the attack, openly mulling over it like it was something he could have stopped.

It wasn't his responsibility or his desire to save them from their Monsters. Those were witches and wizards that died, they could have used magic to fight back. If they didn't have the knowledge it was their mistake to be caught of guard during a time of war. And still the innocent face of Gabrielle drifted into his thoughts, her face a little older than when last he saw her three years ago.

Too young.

Much too young.

Thoughtfully Harry glanced at the discarded paper to Neville's side. Voldemort had made his first move against a magical institution. The time of waiting was over; the magical war had begun in earnest.

**S**eptember was almost over when Quittich tryouts began. There were three new positions open, a large number but certainly not a record. Gryffindor captains would shutter whenever mention was made of the season of 1996 when only one veteran player returned. Many players had graduated the year prior, the Weasley twins had been expelled and Harry Potter had been banned. Any hope gained when Harry was reinstated as Seeker was quickly extinguished when he quit the team….loudly.

After much pleating by the House Harry reminded them once more that he would not rejoin the team….violently.

It took some of the students at the receiving end of his tirade weeks to find the counter to the hexes Harry threw at them. After that pretty much everyone accepted his decision.

Which is why everyone was dumbstruck when Harry showed up at the Quittich field for tryouts, a Comet 520 in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Comet 520 was a relatively new broom, fast and agile but no where near the Firebolts series. It wasn't that Harry couldn't afford a Firebolt; he saw no reason to purchase one. Even with a Comet 520 he still had the best broom in Gryffindor. Besides there wasn't a soul alive that would convince him to risk his Firebolt, not when it was the first gift Sirius ever gave him. One of the precious few he was ever given as a matter of fact.

"Mate….you're trying out?" asked Ron nervously. As one of the most vocal protesters of last year he was hit with a particularly nasty hex that gave him Medusa snakes on his head. The fact that Harry later talked to the snakes and was seen laughing as he walked away further traumatized Ron. I took Hermione a week and half to find the counter-curse.

Harry just gave him a lopsided grin.

"I figure I should test out any skill I might still have after nearly two years of inactivity."

"Are you sure you want to tryout?" Ron asked once more. He vividly remembered those snake-filled days with barely a wink of sleep.

Harry's grin didn't change but a glint of annoyance entered the brilliant emerald eyes.

"I'm sure Ron. You shouldn't hold up everyone because me. There's a tryout that needs to take place, no?"

Ron wisely decided to retreat.

"Listen here! Tryouts are about to begin. We're looking for two Chasers and a Beater—"

"Ron! If Harry's trying out I want to try out for Chaser!", Ginny yelled over her brother. "No offense Harry, I'm sure you're a decent Chaser but you're a brilliant Seeker. Besides I prefer Chaser myself."

Harry smiled at the redhead, tilting his head in her direction.

"Ehh…Fine then. To be fair then, we're looking for two Chasers, a Beater, and a Seeker. Beaters are up first. To the air mates!"

To be fair they did have some unrefined talent. Last year had been a disaster for the team in general. They did make an effort and eventually came out in third place. If the Gryffindors were disappointed they made sure not to mention it in Harry's hearing.

Stance Allenmere, the returning Beater was a fair enough player who worked easily with all the others paired with him for the tryouts. Unfortunately none matched the Weasley twins' glory. Their legacy was secure for many years to come.

As a Chaser Ginny was marvelous, it helped that she was also familiar with the returning Chaser, a fourth year girl he vaguely recognized and could therefore easily read her body language.

His tryout as a Seeker was more a farce than anything else. Ginny gave him the courtesy of going up against him but even he knew she was already slated in as the next Gryffindor Chaser. Ten minutes later and the snitch in hand tryouts ended.

Tomorrow when his Housemates patted him on the back during breakfast, Quittich players everywhere would swallow nervously and Snape's scowl would deepen just a little more.

**T**he full Wizengamot Council traditionally was called into session on the day of the Autumnal Equinox that fell on September 21st . The particular date symbolize balance within the Council, emphasizing the twelve hours of night and twelve hours of light to remind everyone that things where rarely one-sided.

Ironically it had been many a year since the Council actually opened on that particular date.

It was two weeks into October before the 20th of October was confirmed as the first session.

Neville had been a walking bundle of nerves since the news came out. As the last male Longbottom and the incapacitation of his father Neville was officially Lord Longbottom. When Neville walked into the Wizengamot he would do so without the council of his father or anyone else. For all purposes he was a walking target to the power hungry politicians. And Neville was smart enough to know it.

Harry would be operating under a different standard. Most lobbyist would leave him alone, believing him to be the prodigy or pawn of Dumbledore depending on who they where. It would be with the Headmaster that they would deal with, incorrectly thinking that Harry would follow where Dumbledore should point. However, his main objective would be to prove one thing…his sanity.

Politicians where wise never to fall under the complete sway of printed words but even they knew every fable usually had a kernel of truth. The stories that no doubt floated among them would depict Harry as an attention-seeking rash immature child.

Harry grumbled to himself. It was alright for Dumbledore and Voldemort to be considered insane. One was far too respected and the other too feared to overly worry anyone about little things like their sanity. Unfortunately most wizards didn't know enough about him to do either.

**I**t rained the Saturday the Wizengamot met.

Neville had been up since dawn, his robes neatly spread out on his bed and he himself pacing back and forth in front of them. His eyes flickering between the robes and his Family ring that lay on his left middle finger.

Harry woke some time after and amusedly watched Neville. He even offered the nervous seventh year to stun him till it was time to change. Neville only refused because he feared the _enervate _would fail.

Both boys just quit their torture and changed careful to not wake their sleeping doormats.

Neville's inner robe was a beautiful shade of burgundy while his outer robe was soft brown, his House colors. On his breast and back the shield of Longbottom was displayed. A dove proudly flared its wings, at its feet devil's snare shot vines all around forever caught in a strangely serpentine dance. Harry was stumped with all the possible symbolism. The dove, a bird of peace and sacrifice; devil's snare, used to guard against intruders, a fierce opponent but easily combated if you knew how. It was gentle and fierce, much like Neville Longbottom Harry supposed.

His hands shook as he buttoned his inner robe, the first visible sign that he was nervous about today. Under the inner robe, Harry wore a light T-shirt and some black trousers. The inner robe was designed with mobility in mind, the idea probably stemming from impromptu duels born when Lords disagreed. The inner robe was long, two slits born at mid-thigh on both sides and extending to the ground. It had no sleeves and it clipped snugly at the side of the neck under a silver Celtic knot to signify full membership of the Wizengamot. Heirs and appointees where distinguished from Lords by bearing a silver button in place. The outer robe was made of the same soft material but it was made to impress. The border was outlined deeply; deep sleeves could hide the wearers hands easily. The robe was full enough that Harry supposed with enough practice one could create the billowing effect Snape had perfected.

A deep breath later, Harry slipped two rings on his left hand.

They glowed faintly as they interacted with the charmed robes.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. A moment later he opened them and studied his robes. The inner robe was black with a border of purple while the outer robe was ruby red, like Voldemort's eyes Harry thought uneasily. On his breast was a shield that was clearly divided in half. On the left the golden lion of Potter reared in defiance. Inlaid over that image was a crossed sword and distaff. The background was a deep purple, befitting the red and purple house colors of Potter. On the right side a thestral reared in the opposite direction of the lion, its body a soft grey that contrasted nicely to the black in the background. A wand was on the right while a sword was on the left.

Harry sighed in relief. While Potter was represented with purple and red, Black used black and red. Harry had feared he'd end up looking like a blood covered figure. He could only shutter at the rainbow he would make when he publicly acknowledged his full inheritance. Morrigan like a true parent of Ravenclaw used blue and silver while Slytherin favored green and silver.

The final image of his robes was surprisingly tasteful, the colors emphasizing each other nicely.

Neville eyed Harry curiously. Even he knew most wizarding families tended to steer away from a consolidation of power. It was therefore rare to see an heir to more than one bloodline.

Harry just shrugged not all that intent on explaining.

**T**hey walked the almost deserted halls. It was early enough that only a Ravenclaw would think to get up. The occasional student they passes just gapped at the two Lords.

Harry smiled wryly. Must everything he do be such a spectacle?

The other Heirs had prearranged to meet at the Entrance Hall where Dumbledore would later escort them of the grounds. Arriving Harry was surprised by the gathering, naturally Draco Malfoy was there as were two other Slytherins, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. From Ravenclaw came Anthony Goldstein and a boy he vaguely recognized as Hermes Hornfield. The lone Huffelpuff turned out to be the only girl as well, Hannah Abbott. Perhaps there was some truth in pureblood elitist congregating in Slytherin House.

"This everyone?" Harry asked in wonder. Eight students out of more than fifty seventh years. It was peculiar that the largest House in Hogwarts also had the least Heirs.

Unfortunately Malfoy heard Harry's comment and promptly reacted in a predicted manor.

"It's not every decent wizard that can become an Heir. Unfortunately time has introduced bad blood into the lines." Malfoy sneered with a pointed look in Harry's direction.

Harry hadn't missed the fact that he was the only half-blood there either.

"Pity, I know. Thankfully for you marrying your own cousin doesn't always lead to defective children but I must wonder if your father ever bothered to wonder how closely he was related to your mother before you were born, or was it only after that he had the incentive to investigate?" drawled Harry, his face calm even if his voice was mocking and disdainful.

Malfoy turned light pink and Harry had to really wonder how closely the two elder blonds were related.

Any further discussion was interrupted as Dumbledore in his own manner appeared silently next to them.

"Good morning gentlemen and lady. Any of you care for a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked with a far too jolly tone.

"Ahh…Mr. Potter, I didn't expect you to be here." The Headmasters tone was courteous but twinkling eyes spoke of many things neither could voice in public.

"Really?" Harry blandly answered. "How odd. But the day is far from ending and we have much to do. I'm very excited about seeing the first gathering of the Wizengamot that isn't putting me on trial."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes my dear boy, a most unfortunate occurrence. I hope there isn't any task you children are neglecting in favor of attending?" Dumbledore spoke to the group but his eyes pointedly shifted to Harry.

Harry gave the old coot a lazy grin that was more than a little predatory.

Theodore Nott who could have very well been a Ravenclaw had not stopped studying Harry under disturbing pale eyes.

"Potter…whose crest to you wear? That not just one Family."

Harry's eyes flickered to the pale-eyed boy, his grin never fading.

"I'm surprised Malfoy didn't recognize it immediately. The Lion marks me as Potter and the Thestral as a Black."

Harry didn't know that the already pale boy could pale anymore. Malfoy's eyes were wide, the implications that Lord Black was none other than Harry Potter were slowly sinking into his very veins. Harry hadn't missed the fact Malfoy wore the Celtic knot on his collar either. His father _was_ a fugitive for the last two years.

"I think Malfoy's going into shock." He commented to Nott who only gave him a Slytherin grin.

"Poor chap", murmured Neville near his ear. "He finds that the Boy-Who-Lived is a Brother Lord."

Harry frowned lightly. He really hated being muggle raised at times like this.

"Honestly Potter, there's a reason the Wizengamot is composed of old _pureblooded_ Families." Muttered Zabini.

Harry gave the seventh year a predatory grin that promised nothing good.

"Then my success is all the more impressive when I go head to head with 'old pureblooded Families'" Although he pointed out to himself he didn't have as much Muggle blood as everyone would like to think.

Hannah Abbott in true Huffelpuff fashion tried to regain the peace.

"As you were saying, a Brother Lords or in my case Lady have close ties of blood that in times of great need can be called upon within the Wizengamot. However this power is carefully used because a boon is later owed between the parties, one that when called upon must be fulfilled. There are a few restrictions but I'm unfamiliar with the specifications. Traditionally blood bound nobles are great allies within the Council."

Harry and Neville shared an incredulous look before laughing freely.

How unfair was that, the Black Brother Lords where none other than Malfoy and Snape.

"How wonderful! One should always learn to explore and appreciate the intrigues that make up our marvelous world." Dumbledore really was too jolly this early in the morning.

With one last baffled glance at the Headmaster the group started down the grounds toward the edge of the wards toward the apparation point. He hadn't missed the fact that had Dumbledore wore a silver button on his collar either; identifying him as an appointee in his brother's stead

Thankfully apparation was one mode of travel Harry could deal with. It was also coincidently the last wizarding method that hadn't tried to kill him as of yet. What joy that he was now at least licensed if it did.

TBC…….

**S**

**AN: I got good news and bad news. **

**Good news is I updated fast this week. Bad news is I'm going on Spring break and I'm not sure if I'll be able to post. I will write on paper but I won't be able to post often.**

**To all those that still want to hunt me down – I have a 12 pound cat and I'm not afraid to use her! (meow….)**

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed….thanks for showing me your love!**

**Thanks for your ideas also! Gave me pointers on where I'm going.**

**By the way why are there so many more people on my author alert list than actual reviewers? As a first time writer, is that normal?**

REVIEW!...If Review where dollars bills I'd gather them together and roll around in them. That said, thank goodness no one knows my real name.


	12. Shards of the Old Blood

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

**Shards of the Old Blood**

**T**he Wizengamot was composed of two bodies, the Governing body and the full Council. The Governing body was compiled of select council members charged with overseeing judicial matters year-round. Officially they were meant to balance the power the Minister wielded. They were traditionally the closest advisors to the Minister and had the power to circumvent Ministry edicts.

Unofficially, members, no matter how honest and good-willed initially, eventually found their coffers lined with Ministry gold. These were the closest people to the Minister and Fudge, in all his tenure, had consistently proven what little love he held for people not his own.

The Wizengamot Council was the oldest governing institution, even older than the Ministry of Magic. Formed in the days when the wizards freely ruled over mortal men the Council was composed of the Great Families, the ruling class of the time.

When the wizarding kind retreated into secrecy, the Families lost their fiefdoms but they stubbornly clung to their title and power. Centuries later the modern Wizengamot Council oversaw legislature matters in yearly sessions that began each autumn. This was the body of power even Fudge feared for it wielded the power to suspend the Governing Council and the right to impeach the reigning Minister.

The Wizengamot ranks had long since been closed. The Great Families forever immortalized within the Council. Impermeable to outside change, the Great Families had always been careful to preserve the separation of power, always careful to prevent the accumulation of power on any one Heir.

Some Families eventually died off as the last of their blood left this plane while others fell dormant till an appropriate Heir would rise once more such as Morrigan had done.

Sirius Black as the last scion to the House of Black must have known he would not live long enough to sire an Heir. Perhaps he hoped his godson would live to redeem the cursed name seventeen years past when first he held his godson and named him Heir.

Years later they say Sirius Black must have surely felt the darkness that shrouded his future. They say Blacks once mingled their blood with a powerful Seer and it was her gift that forever flowed in the veins of her children. Whether or not that is true is not known but what is certain is an undeniable _knowing _that Black generations have proven to posses.

Sirius knew his family would kill him.

Perhaps that is why he spent his life fighting so fiercely against them and why it wasn't so much as a surprise as it was acceptance that he felt those final moments when he teetered at the edge of the Veil, eyes locked on his cousin Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

His blood had fulfilled their prophecy.

These are only some of the reasons named when people speculate on what drove Sirius Black to create a Double Heir; initiating a magical bond that would deny any children he might bear inheritance.

Why would a man barely out of school already know he would never father a child?

No one alive knows.

The facts are the only thing concrete from that time. Sirius Black made the Potter child Heir to the legacy of the Black Family. Since their legacy only recognized an Heir from a direct male line, with the death of the last Black, their name should have faded into obscurity. A blessing some people might have called the end of the cursed line.

Perhaps that is why few recognized the crest upon his breast for what it was. Malfoy, whose own mother was a Black, certainly never expected for the family shield to ever be worn again.

Besides, most everyone was too busy gawking at his scared forehead to think overmuch about his clothes. The one or two reporters stationed at the Ministry entrance (the Wizengamot as a rule wasn't front page material) never even blinked at his attire as they tried to get a shot from among the people Harry stubbornly ducked under.

The Council Chambers where located on the same floor as the courthouses, a trip that brought unpleasant memories to mind for the young Lord.

The entrance hall spilled into a gallery separated by glass from the Main Chamber. The Main Chamber was a large circular stadium that was centered around a podium where the Mugwump of the Council sat as did the Speaker of the Governing Council and the Minister in a rather odd triad.

**T**he gallery was crowded. These men and occasional women were educators, politicians, healers, businessmen; all depending on how strongly the gold of their ancient lines held. But in these halls they were all Lords, remnants of the ruling class.

There were so many people entering the Chamber alongside the small Hogwarts group Harry easily slipped off on his own, one hand snaked around Neville's sweaty palm.

The boy's pallor had steadily increased with every step. Idly Harry wondered when he wasn't likewise paralyzed. Perhaps it was because he had already faced greater challenges.

"Harry? Shouldn't we find seats?"

Harry sighed slightly and dragged the other boy into a private alcove overlooking the Main Chamber.

"Nev, I need you to calm down or at the very least pretend that you are. You're so high-strung right now you're ready to jump at the slightest noise. Now, you and me are in the same boat, we're playing everything by ear—"

"What?"

"—Muggle expression. We're figuring out everything by ourselves. Now look out the window and tell me what you see."

"Everyone's finding a seat…people are talking?"

"Right. You have to see a bit beyond that. Look at who they are talking to. You see Fudge right there, his seat is at the podium but he looks awfully comfortable there surrounded by those people. You'll notice most there either hold some position in the Governing Council or work directly for the Ministry. You see that other group by Dumbledore? They all look at him like he's the second coming of Merlin. You might recognize a couple there from the Order of the Phoenix if your Gran's ever showed you pictures of the people your parents fought alongside."

"They are all sectioned off into factions…but who does everyone belong to?" Neville frowned thoughtfully, his mind beginning to grasp the politics that ruled the Wizengamot as the factions began to be more noticeable even as more people found their seats. Harry smiled sadly for a second. In another world James Potter and Frank Longbottom would be guiding their sons carefully through what Harry was giving Neville a crash course in.

Unfortunately one was dead and the other insane.

"That's the hard part. I'm not really sure about that but I can give you a guess. I know a couple stories behind some of these blokes and the Family Legacies of others. Look at our year mates if it will help. You see Malfoy sitting with that bloke that looks like Snape? Two rows down there's Zeus Lestrange, all notorious families that have dabbled in the Dark Arts. While not all Voldemort supporters you might find a larger number in that area."

"Is there a faction here for V-Voldemort?"

"No, the gits aren't as stupid as to congregate in such public displays of loyalty. They prefer to wear pretty white masks when they have parties." Harry added sarcastically.

"You see Hannah Abbott? Abbott's are famous for turning out reporters. I think they own The Warlock Times. She's sitting a row above Henry Stockhold, the Director of St. Mungo. Down the same row you see Zabini and that man that looks like his father? They are all strong neutral Families. Remember the shy Ravenclaw, Hermes Hornfield? That's his grandfather next to Constantine Mullikin; he writes a weakly rant about Dumbledore to the Daily Prophet. All those fellows have one thing in common, they all want Dumbledore's head on a pike. Over there, that old lady is Camille Cox, the last of the Cox Family. Her and her mates dream about crucifying Fudge. Those are the most obvious factions but no doubt countless other alliances are being formed and broken as we speak. Hey, Nev no need to look so pale. You ever notice how Malfoy still looks like a prat even from here? His mate Nott should be sitting next to him but I guess he found us vastly more interesting, isn't that true Theodore?" Harry calmly finished s he turned around to face his year mate.

Neville, startled, jumped to face the intruder as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Potter. I'm just curious on what conspiracies Gryffindors are capable of brewing." Nott said.

The quiet Slytherin was speaking more words to Harry today than he had all six years previously.

Rather than run off in a Gryffindor rage at the 'injustice', Harry smirked at the boy.

"Gryffindors have the best plots, no one ever sees them coming. But why should you think we would be involved in such business?"

The Slytherin gave an answering smirk.

"When is Harry Potter not involved? You're curiosity is almost Slytherin-worthy if only you weren't such a Gryffindor."

"Pity." Said Harry dryly.

"Slytherin's don't like surprises and you seem to spring them far too often for my comfort. Something is going on between you and the Headmaster among whatever hair-brained plots you're involved in. It normally wouldn't be a concern of mine but the Wizengamot is about to enter a period of instability as a new Lord rises and Potter, however much you've denied it, your name carries weight among our kind. Whoever you choose to support will benefit greatly."

Harry chucked lazily.

"So what is it that you're looking for? You come here and throw accusations in the air in a strangely Gryffindor manner and you expect me to act accordingly?"

Nott's eyes revealed respect where before contempt had shown, however carefully hidden.

"I'm just curious. You might not confirm any of my suspicious but the more you talk the more I am certain something is going on."

"This is the Wizengamot, Theodore Nott." Harry gestured behind him to the gathering. "Something is always going on."

**H**arry and Neville escaped the seventh year minutes before the Wizengamot was called in session. Pausing at the entrance, Harry pulled Neville to the side.

"Nev, Nott was right when he said something was going on. I'm involved with certain people you might not want to be associated with. I can't explain anymore than that; this is neither the time nor the place. I understand if you want to go find your own seat, no doubt Dumbledore kept an empty seat for me in his party if you want it. I'm going to go sit by Zabini and their lot. I can't make my allegiances public right now but know that I would never betray what my parents stood for."

Harry fell silent, studying the other boy as he gathered his thoughts.

"Harry, I admit I would have been hopelessly lost today without your help. I'm still scared stiff of everything going on but Harry, you've proven every year that I've known you that my faith in you has never been misplaced. You've helped me find confidence in myself back in fifth year and you've helped me find friends that I can trust with my life last year. You've given me so much, trust is the least I can give you. I don't mean to make a speech." Neville said blushing. " But what I want you to know is that I have an idea of who you will be facing against and I want you to know I'll support you."

Harry looked as his friend once more in appreciation. Shy, quiet Neville. It was easy to forget about him sometimes; then the boy goes out and proves exactly why he is a Gryffindor and why Huffelpuff should envy him.

"Thanks Neville. It's…nice knowing there's someone there that you can count on. I'll explain as much as I can later but it's not the right time for me to come clean. Do me a favor and pay attention to what everyone else talks about. You'll learn many things like that, especially when people don't pay mind to who overhears."

Clasping hands, both boys walked down the steps to the open stadium seats. They found two seats three rows above Zabini. Sliding in seconds before the Mugwump stood to call the session into order, they held their senses alert for what news they might overhear.

**I**f Harry learned something at Hogwarts, it was that someone was always looking. Eyes saw everything he did. The only thing he was able to modify later was exactly what curious eyes saw.

His choice of seats had been studied the moment he sat down. The crest on his robes had been commented upon and referenced the moment he was identified as the Boy-Who-Lived. He wouldn't be surprised if the some of the gathered knew Sirius Black was his godfather by the end of the session.

The meeting was mostly a longwinded explanation on such odd subjects as standardized cauldron sizes. Even he knew the first session wouldn't be anything but something as remotely interesting as a dictionary.

**F**udge was a dangerous man if only because he had been foolishly entrusted with so much power. Perhaps that proved how foolish wizarding society really was, Harry wasn't about to argue the point. However dangerous he was strangely predictable; Fudge liked working with a lot of spectators looking. Predictably, as soon as Fudge knew Harry was present, the Minister would seek him out. Fudge was addicted to the emotions that ran freely when a crowd of any size was behind him. In that manner he differed from Dumbledore who preferred to control the settings.

When Harry stopped to think about how abnormal his life was, he always seemed to site the fact that he understood how the mind of the three most dangerous if not powerful wizards operated.

He really should not have been as surprised as he was when Fudge and his cronies loitered in the entrance hall. Dumbledore was nowhere insight, a move most likely orchestrated by the Minister.

Harry breathed in deeply.

He had a part to play. More than just the Minister would be looking at this confrontation. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the pale-eyes of Nott.

"Minister." Harry greeted politely, for all looking he never stopped or showed the slightest disrespect.

"Harry Potter! How nice to see you again, I had forgotten you would be joining our ranks. My, my, you have grown." Clucked Fudge like a proud parent.

Harry restrained himself from hexing the idiot.

"If you say so."

"Oh…and this must be the Longbottom boy, nasty business your parents fell into."

Neville flushed and Harry's wand arm twitched.

"So it seems."

"It's been many years since either of your Family crests were worn…but I must say Harry, I don't recall your father's crest looking like yours. How curious."

"I suppose. My godfather made me his Heir shortly after my birth. I became Lord twice over on my birthday, once in the name of Potter another under Black."

"Black? As in Sirius Black the mass murderer?" gasped Fudge like he hadn't already known.

"Sirius Black? Yes. Mass murderer? That depends on how mislead the person in question is. Most would name him thus, of course those that have faced Peter Pettigrew in the years since Sirius' unlawful incarceration can attest otherwise."

"Nothing but justice was served when that criminal was sent to Azkaban!"

"And in justice's name a trial was denied him. But of course confirmed Death Eaters such as Lucius Malfoy had the privilege to deny involvement. We all know how that turned out. Tell me, Minister, have the Aurors caught Malfoy Senior yet?"

Harry ignored the flush growing on Fudge's neck. The man in question glanced uneasily at the gathered crowd that didn't look at all properly horrified about the fact the Boy-Who-Lived was Heir to a murderer.

"Makes one wonder what sort of people have the Ministry's ear. It really isn't much of a surprise then that the Ministry spent a year denying the return of Voldemort.—"

Collective flinch. Harry rolled his eyes.

"—One can only wonder about what else is being sealed behind closed doors. I suppose it isn't much of a surprise that Lords keep rising during your tenure. First the Dark Lord Voldemort—"

Flinch.

"—and now the Lord Morrigan, both of who don't like you at all. Lord Morrigan in particular disagrees with your policies. I've heard he is mobilizing support to challenge your method of administration. About time I figure."

"Morrigan is nothing but a rumor derived from someone's fancy! The Family's been dead for as long as anyone can remember!"

"Then you've neglected what purebloods seemingly prize so dearly: their history. Morrigan historically goes dormant whenever there is no male Heir to carry on tradition. The last Morrigan was nearly a century ago, a man rumored to have only sired squib daughters. Really Minister Fudge, whoever advises you is proving to be less adequate than appropriate. How disheartening. It was wonderful to talk with you once more but no doubt the Headmaster is looking for us and I'm sure you have more important matters than following the Boy-Who-Lived around like a common fan. Good day Minister."

Harry spun away, walking quickly toward the last spot he had seen Dumbledore in. He needed to leave before Fudge collected his wits again.

"Harry? Was there anyone you didn't insult just then?"

They traded grins.

"I was just returning the favor."

**D**umbledore and Madam Bones were still talking near the podium where Harry had spotted them earlier. Harry was aware Madam Bones wasn't part of Dumbledore's faction but that didn't stop the old coot from courting her favor. As a Department Head, Madam Bones was careful to keep a neutral face on but as Fudge had proven over the years anyone could be swayed; you just had to find the right price. Unfortunately for them all Madam Bones took her duties very seriously.

The two boys leaned against the wall placing a respectable distance between them and Dumbledore. Harry wasn't about to be seen hanging off the Headmasters' coattail.

Harry savored the first moment of peace he'd been able to snatch.

In his world there where three kind of people; those that were in too much awe of him to approach him, those that felt it their right to mob the Boy-Who-Lived, and those that simply didn't care. There weren't too many of the last, sometimes too many of the second, and always plenty of the first. These rules always came into effect whenever Harry Potter was spotted, something that he avoided at all costs. No one would name him thus if they saw him as he was in that moment. Instead of the attention seeking celebrity most would assume him to be they saw a young man, his face thrown into shadow as wild black hair hung every which way, strategically obscuring the damming scar.

"Harry? It's time to depart. I must say Hogwarts must be missing our small group by now." Called out the Headmaster's cheerful voice.

"Harry? As in Harry Potter!"

"—Harry Potter is here!"

"Where!"

"—always wanted to meet the boy—"

"—never believed a word the Prophet said. That boy has always been such a sweet child—"

"—you think he would sign something…for my…err...daughter—"

"—don't be daft. They'd never let him out—"

"—shouldn't keep him locked up. My son says he's always finding things people are so keen on keeping secret—"

"—did you see how he went after Fudge. That was truly beautiful!—"

"—knew Sirius Black was innocent. My cousin went to school with him. The man would prank you three different ways before you could blink—"

Harry grimaced. He frowned. He scowled. He pouted.

He finally sighed in resignation.

Carefully schooling his face till it was nothing more than a polite mask he walked up to Dumbledore.

"—figured he was taller."

"Of course Headmaster. Whenever you are ready."

"Excellent my dear boy. Is everyone else gathered?"

"I'm sure if they mean to return to Hogwarts they will be." Harry shrugged noncommittally. He also couldn't afford to be perceived as Dumbledore's secretary.

Sometimes even he gave himself a headache. He really was too young to be tangled so intricately in the minds of so many powerful people.

"School rules forbid unscheduled overnight trips." Dumbledore chided lightly.

"Then I guess they best hurry."

Now Dumbledore was openly frowning at Harry's 'insolence'.

Harry smiled lightly at the old man, his face always calmly polite. They might be Headmaster and student but here they where Lords. Well Harry was at least. Wizarding etiquette called for appointed Lords to show more respect to true born Lords. Those traditions were never really discussed openly but it was something most Lords kept in mind.

Dumbledore gave Harry one more searching look before turning back to exchange farewells.

Harry smile turned into a smirk. Emerald eyes flashed with dangerous fire as they met the pale eyes of Theodore Nott who had been among those watching the exchange avidly.

Nott for a moment met the eyes that he had always thought retained the last wisps of the long ago failed Killing Curse in their shadowy depths. Slowly he bowed his head toward the Boy-Who-Lived.

Avreda Kedavra eyes glowed more fiercely.

TBC….

**S—**

**AN: 'ello! Miss me?…yeah I thought so…Well I updated! I get to live another day! Or so say those that want to make my head a flower pot…(See? I Updated!….nervous laugh…) I've gotten so many reviews it makes me all giddy thinking about it (or maybe that's the car fumes…) **

**Spring Break is going great. I haven't killed any rabid bunnies and no bunnies have tried to kill me!**

**Thanks for all the reviews. I love the support! I'm infatuated with the support!…now that everyone is uncomfortable I'll move on….Don't forget to review or I'll…cry?**

**By the way I'm already on chapter 13 and I love it! (now this is self-promotion)**

**S**

**TBC...**


	13. Tendrils of Thought

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of

**Tendrils of Thought**

**S**ociety was fueled by gossip; it thrived on it and in turn made gossip grow. So it wasn't much of a surprise that after the first Saturday of the Wizengamot, the following Sunday everyone knew who the Heirs were.

More precisely they knew Harry to be Heir of Potter and Black.

If Harry wasn't already so accustomed to the attention garnished as the Boy-Who-Lived he would have surely been upset at the rumors that grew in the days following.

What he had not foreseen but should have expected was the new fear in his classmates' eyes.

As a general rule Harry was careful to never outperform his classmates. Having no wish to be seen as the Light's poster boy Harry was cautious when he performed feats of magic. He projected the image of an average student if possessing a somewhat vicious temper when roused.

By the time his seventh year was in full swing most people had already grown to see Harry's adventures as products of luck.

Even then, subconsciously they felt Harry to be powerful. Realistically, why else would the Dark Lord be so interested in a mere student?

And they feared Harry's power, for with power he possessed the ability to hurt them however irrational that fear might prove. Even they knew people had generally failed Harry and it was only expected he fail them.

They had certainly turned on him often enough to warrant such outcomes. Ironically the pattern never seemed to change.

Hogwarts students had not fallen into outright hostility as they had done in previous years. This year their betrayal was their suspicion and weariness.

Most believing Sirius Black to be Voldemort's right-hand man rumors had immediately sprung up about some alliance between the Harry and the Dark Order. Having once been under Dementour guard because of the escaped convict few were willing to believe the man to be more than a murderer.

So once again he became Hogwarts main attraction. It was especially lovely when the Daily Prophet dug up records of signed adoption papers that were never processed. James and Lily Potter had entrusted their child to a Black.

Dumbledore watched him and Harry watched him back.

Sirius innocence was known to them but it must have made the Headmaster wonder why Harry never spoke a word in his godfather's defense. Ron and Hermione certainly told their tale initially to as many as would listen. They gave up in confusion when Harry never spoke for or against the rumors floating. Luna Lovegood in her strange manner just gave vapid smiles when she heard about Sirius; Ginny turned a famous Weasley red but otherwise kept her silence more out of fear of Dark repercussions than because of Harry. Neville, the last of the students to know of Sirius innocence kept silent because Harry kept silent.

Harry loved his godfather dearly and wasn't about to let his memory be dragged out and ridiculed. Everyone else could do as they pleased, they didn't know Sirius at all, they only knew what ever version of events the Ministry fed the public. Harry knew the dog animagus as he had been in the years after Azkaban. Their time was short, too short for him to flaunt precious memories before a public that would only desecrate such a gift. Perhaps one day, preferably with Pettigrew in custody people would be willing to listen.

Till then Harry kept his silence.

**W**inters chill hung over the Great Hall. Sitting besides Seamus, Dean, and Neville, Harry quietly ate his meal. The second session had been the last week and Harry had managed to avoid Fudge for the meeting.

Even now he smiled at the memory of the growing rumors of Lord Morrigan. Most wizard-lords had avoided mention of the Lord for fear of being the center of the Ministry's enquiry. Once Harry publicly acknowledged the Lord it seemed everyone had an opinion. Many were unsure of what to make of the unknown man, his messages promised great things and he certainly was a wizard of great strength or at least had the means to employ one in his service.

His year-mates where engaged in a rousing argument over some Quidditch team or other when the lower half of his table, conveniently located next to Harry, erupted into shouts.

"—Black's the reason the Dementors' Kiss should be used every time a Death Eater is caught! He escaped and Merlin knows were he is!" yelled a fifth year boy Harry didn't recognize.

"I heard he was innocent. Don't you remember the paper? He was Harry Potter's godfather." This from a girl who spoke in a quieter tone after a scorching glance from the Deputy Headmistress.

"That certainly is reassuring. The boy's a parseltongue so I've heard. Like you say, _Black_ was Potter's godfather." Drawled the first boy's companion.

The first boy, not to be forgotten eagerly chimed in to his companion. "You think if they doused him with _Veritaserum_ he'd tell where Black is hiding?"

The group snickered into their meal. Exactly why that was funny they would never be able to explain when they asked themselves.

Harry's frown deepened. Mayhap he had been a bit too lax when he chose to stay out of these sort of confrontations.

In front of him, Neville still nodded to whatever Seamus was saying but his fist was tightened so much it was almost white and his soft blue eyes shown with worry. Harry stared into his eyes for a moment absentmindedly, very obviously making a decision. His eyes refocused and a dangerous smirk grew in his lips.

"There goes the Lion's temper", muttered Seamus to Dean. None the less both rose when Harry did.

Though Harry could kindly be called of average height he was still taller than these younger years. And he wasn't about to waste any of his advantages.

"I should hope I am never under _Veritaserum_. There's a reason why it's a controlled substance." Said Harry laconically as he startled the group of about five students.

At the very least they would remember to guard their mouth where people might overhear.

"Now, I was having a very nice meal when all the ruckus you created caught my attention. And I think I've let all these rumors float about long enough. Perhaps I shall give you some new ones to talk about?" Harry asked them innocently as they paled collectively, his eyes shinning either with amusement or rage, no one could quite tell.

"Now it seems your sort of creatures has nothing better than to talk about me. You seem very curious in my opinion."

The fifth years glanced helplessly at the Head Table but his mates had created a human shield surprisingly joined by Ginny and Andrew Kirke who had a brief stint as a Gryffindor Chaser. Ginny really wasn't all that surprising but Kirke Harry would have to pay attention to later on.

"So let me sate your curiosity." Despite themselves, his targets leaned in as did others how had caught the confrontation.

"First of all Sirius Black was my Godfather who I loved very much, who was sent to Azkaban without a trial and without your precious _Veritaserum_, and who has been dead for more than a year. I am not going to waste my time defending his innocence because it was fools like you who hunger for his death like starving animals that condemned him in the first place. Now I've kept quiet for weeks because frankly if you can't figure out the truth yourself it isn't worth anything to me to explain it. But I think I have allowed all that I am going to. And you my dear Gryffindors will learn that you spoke too freely of matters that do not concern you." Harry all but hissed at his petrified audience.

This was the first time Harry had seriously threatened anyone that wasn't named Malfoy at Hogwarts. Malfoy was a proud boy groomed to be a prouder man. He had arrogance enough to go against Harry but these students had never been the at the receiving end of his anger. They all but wilted under his intensity.

Casually Harry threw out his wand. Those not directly involved sprung away from the unfortunate teenagers.

Wide-eyed his prey beseeched the audience for help only to find none forth coming. The older years where surprisingly his strongest allies; because of their familiarity they perhaps had begun to realize faith in Harry was well placed. Those that would oppose him where no match for the seventh-year. And of course there was the occasional ruthless Gryffindor that figured if _five_ fifth years could not overwhelm _one_ seventh-year it wasn't worth it to save them.

By now the fifth years' panic had grown so that one terrified girl, Emily Higgs opened her mouth to shriek for the professors help….only to find nothing emitting from her mouth. Helplessly she clasped her neck and silently wailed.

"Tut tut, my dear. I'm not done." He calmly reprimanded her. Had he been yelling his prey would have been more at ease. Instead he continued on calmly, the rage that had grown ever since Sirius name had been dragged before all finally shinned brightly in emerald eyes.

The audience glanced suspiciously at Harry's friends. No one had heard the silencing spell being cast. They where only further confused when his friends looked equally surprised.

Harry merely smirked at them before refocusing his attention.

Quietly he muttered one spell at each trembling student. When the last boy tried to lunge at Harry before the spell could be cast he found his knife and fork deeply embedded into the bench he sat on, carelessly impaled into his school robes.

Everyone was curious as to what spells Harry had used. There seemed to be no sign of the more common ones involved in student duels.

Perhaps this way they would remember not to open their mouths when Harry was concerned.

The effects of one spell became obvious as a chubby boy someone in the crowd called Landlewigg sprang up tearing lovely gashed in his clothes as his own utensils speared the material. The boy in question seemed to furiously rub his head and body every few seconds.

"This, young man, is called _gelus semita,_ useless charm really but quite distracting as you see. Roughly translated it is 'ice-cold path'. It makes you feel as if someone with fingers like the dead trailed their hands over your body. Really, it isn't a harmful spell at all."

Harry took a step back, observing them all under intense eyes.

"I find students have entirely too much time to gossip. Maybe now you'll be inspired to spend more time on other matters as you search for the counter-curse. It seems with everything going on they seemed to have slipped my mind. Be good children and _scram_." Harry hissed the last word, his face never changing.

The students didn't need anymore incentive. They practically bolted from the Hall. Calmly, Harry met the eyes of anyone that sought his from his audience, daring anyone else to follow the fifth-years example.

Gracefully Harry turned back to his friends, clasping Ginny's shoulder in thanks and nodding once to Kirke, the four boys made their way out of the Great Hall.

By dinner everyone had heard of the five cursed teenagers.

**H**is arms burned, sweat trickled down his forehead, and wild black hair flopped into his eyes. Annoyed, he spun sending wild raven strands into the air. Ragged trainers flew in an ancient dance; his body spinning with shadowy opponents only he saw. The Chamber of Secrets echoed with his harsh breathing. Arms and legs were on fire with exhaustion.

Still he pushed himself.

Exhaustion overrode his mind till his thoughts were sufficiently scattered, his emotions extinguished in the wave of such weariness.

Finally he collapsed; twin daggers shinning in the torchlight. The daggers were cruelly sharp, a present from Amos. Dumbledore would surely disapprove of his toys but Harry had long ago learned his lesson; if Death Eaters ever managed to penetrate his defenses enough to come into dagger-range they would learn exactly why he was still alive when many would have died long ago.

The daggers were beautiful works of art. With steal that shown icy blue in its purity and an intricately forged silver unicorn as its handle it was almost a shame to use such tools against mere humans.

Amos had initially taught him their more formal use; later he delved into more underhand methods with the help of countless teachers he procured among the dark corners of society. Most people would gladly pass on their craft in exchange for a warm meal. Such was his instruction that eventually his style was composed of a dozen different ones, forming a deadly dance few could predict.

The daggers were decidedly non-magical in their creation. They were something he could still openly use in the Muggle world without repercussions of the Fudge-kind. More importantly, they were his escape when the Magical world grew too harsh for him to weather unflinching.

Another attack had struck last night.

Parr their agreement Harry lowered one of his occulemency shields on a bi-monthly basis. Enough to open a link of communication between Dark Lord and student; certainly not enough even for the mildest form of possession. Last night the two had met in the plane of their mind and engaged in a game of whose life is the worse.

This morning Harry woke to news of half-a-dozen simultaneous attacks in the depth of the night.

Never before had an attack occurred on a night of their meeting. Harry knew Voldemort was a Dark Lord first and foremost.

_So why did he feel so betrayed?_

**A**t night Hogwarts seemed a completely different castle. Torchlight flickered every so often. The school certainly felt its age at night and one could almost believe the ancient castle was merely a dream of another time.

By the time Harry was seventeen he had developed a healthy case of insomnia. Many knew of his trouble sleeping but it was doubtful anyone was aware of the nighttime forays Harry engaged in.

Tonight he neither had the patience to read or practice magic in the Chamber. Ron's snoring had finally made him flee his warm bed. In the end, he gave himself to some traditional 'marauding'. Map in hand, Harry wandered in search of new passages. Even now he was still able to find new Hogwarts secrets that not even his father had dreamt about.

As he walked he let his magic loose from his tight reign. It felt like something sagged within himself when he did that. He found it interesting that the magic aura he created could be used almost like eyes to feel the physical and magical properties of his surroundings.

Avoiding patrolling prefects Harry took refuge in the Dungeons. A well kept secret few knew about was how the Dungeons where clear of any annoying patrols. Slytherin prefects were notorious for never patrolling their domain and everyone else usually avoided the trip to the cold hallways. After years with the Dursleys, Harry easily tolerated the bite in the air.

There wasn't any real need to keep the Map in hand. Slytherins where strangely enough the most well-behaved students. Except for the occasional snogging couple in the Astronomy Tower Harry rarely ever spotted the snakes. He figured it must be a well-bred fear of Snape that kept them in line.

Which was why it came as complete surprise even with his magical senses extended he ran directly into the Prince of Slytherin himself, Draco Malfoy.

"Out of bed, Malfoy?" Harry chided even as he himself was quite liberally breaking school rules.

"Snape would give you detention till you graduate if he caught you know." Spat the other boy in a strangely natural reflex.

"Worried about my safety? I'm touched."

"Idiotic Gryffindor! They should mark your breed endangered because you certainly aren't encouraging a long life expectancy."

"What can I say? I live for the moment."

Harry frowned. Something tugged at his mind. Examining his magic closer he found the problem coming from Malfoy. Having scarcely met the other seventh year since their initial confrontation, Harry hadn't a chance to observe him this closely. Years of familiarity allowed Harry to detect the change in Malfoy. His magic was tainted with something malicious.

Funnily enough Harry was not able to sense the difference between Dark and Light. What he was able to sense was how harmful something was.

And Malfoy reeked of it on his left forearm.

"So you've chosen." He said so softly Malfoy almost didn't hear. "I can think of many reasons why you would and plenty of why you wouldn't."

"What are you babbling about now?"

Harry smiled thinly, his emerald eyes darkening.

"I had hoped you would grow in the absence of your father but I forget Malfoy's can hide what they want hidden. I suppose it is in fate's hands now. What has been set in motion cannot be stopped, had things been differently I would have hoped you the best." Harry finished with a significant look at the hidden left arm.

"You know nothing." Hissed Malfoy, rage and fear growing in his eyes.

Harry just gave him another sad look.

Something in Malfoy seemed to break.

"You think it's so easy?" he said furiously. "So easy to just turn from the path laid out before you from the moment you first threw breath? But then again everyone else has always bent over backwards to please you. Why should you want to turn from your life?"

Harry laughed hollowly, an eerie sound that echoed in the corridor.

"Someone once told me it was comical how everyone in this war was blind. But I suppose if we weren't we wouldn't be fighting in the first place. I said I wasn't at the time and he laughed at me." Harry remembered one of his late night conversations with Amos.

"But I was wrong. Voldemort is my blindness, even he told me so. Just as I am Dumbledore's blindness, just as my father was Snape's and by default me. Just as I am yours apparently. You spent every year since we were eleven fighting me and still you do not see me clearly."

"I see plainly what kind of life you have and I despise you for it." The boy spat.

"You hate me Malfoy?

"Hate me because I beat you at Quidditch. Hate me because your father became a fugitive when he went up against me. Hate me because I am a damm Gryffindor. But do not hate me because you think I like this farce of a life. I wont rant about my life anymore because I doubt you'd even care for the air I waste doing so. But I want you to understand something. I was a bloody one year old the day my path was sealed. I was expected to save the freaking world and I've even done so since.

"I understand neither of us can change our paths. I can no more stop fighting against Voldemort than you can not become a Death Eater. That doesn't mean either of us is trapped. There are always choices denied us simply because we can't see them."

Harry paused, looking at his palms as if he saw something no one else did.

"I am part of this war but I won't let myself be used by it, consumed till I am nothing more. Will you?"

Harry figured he had better retreat from Slytherin territory before Malfoy woke from his stupor.

Pausing once before he disappeared down a corridor Harry turned back to Malfoy.

"Say hello to your Aunt Bellatrix. Her fate isn't as uncertain as yours."

His farewell was a promise Harry had every intention of fulfilling. Only one person would ever stand between the woman and Harry, and Neville wanted her death just as much as he did.

**M**alfoy would expect Harry to return to bed. Which is why he felt perfectly comfortable slipping out into the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hogwarts had never had a student that spent so much time such dangerous areas. Someone somewhere should be appalled.

In the Shrieking Shack, Harry called for the ice phoenix he had created long ago. This _nuntius_ charm he had kept to himself. It looked at him once and flew off to track a disgruntled vampire.

It made him laugh even now because of all the trouble Aurors had gotten into after one of Harry's more unwise candidates as allies informed the Ministry of the letter's content. The Minister had immediately ordered the capture of the 'dangerous magical entity'. Rather than disappear the bird flew the Aurors in a merry chase before returning to the original letter and very proudly it (being a fire-owl) scorched the letter in the hands of an Auror till it was nothing more than ash. Supposedly it hooted once in anger and simply disappeared. As far as Harry could tell the charm could only exist so long as his will was being followed. As soon as his potential ally had snitched on him the _nuntius_ bird had felt its duty done.

Quite a few wizards had replied after that episode.

Outside the lake served to calm the troubling thoughts talking to Malfoy had stirred.

It was his fate to fight Voldemort. His destiny. His power.

Harry gave Voldemort plenty of time to campaign his side of the war. Yet he had not. Not once had he mentioned turning from the Light side. Of course they spoke of individuals they both knew, both Light and Dark. But never was any offers of joining him ever made. It worried simple because he had not expected it. Besides the parting message so long ago their had been no auspicious comments. But still those words spoken so long ago rang in his mind.

'_You will die by the Light or submit to the Dark. You have no Salvation.'_

There was something he wasn't seeing. Something Voldemort was saying but he couldn't see.

Voldemort had proven true and never lied to Harry. He had refused to answer some questions of course but he had never lied. There was something Voldemort knew that no one else had yet to figure out.

Figures.

Gods favored children, idiots, and the insane.

They must really love Voldemort.

Dumbledore too.

Slowly the moon rouse and Harry eventually came to one conclusion. The only man more insane than Dumbledore was Voldemort. Fudge was only psychotic now that he thought about it.

"Joining the night my child?" was the whisper of the wind, the voice of the Elder. Amos Caliga had come to him

"Is it odd that things seem so much clearer at night?" Harry asked absentmindedly, absorbed in tracing numerous constellations.

"The silence of the night is unmatched by any other. It is the very breath of earth that is lost amid the chaos of daylight."

"Life just seems so scrambled. I'm pulled in so many ways it's difficult to see where I should be going."

"What has happened at your…school?" Amos finished with an almost disdainful sniff as he sat besides the young boy.

"I finally lost my temper over the rumors about my godfather and me. I realized something. Back in first year, in second year, even in fifth year, I didn't have either the power or confidence to tell everyone to go to hell. I guess I was still afraid that if I stepped out of line I'd somehow find myself back with my blood relatives."

Amos ran a soothing hand through messy raven-hair even as the teen continued to talk.

"I guess it helped that they're dead now and I'm an adult in the eyes of the law."

Silence effulged the pair. Amos patiently waited as Harry gathered his thoughts.

"I met Malfoy tonight. It's funny how both of us have been forged to be people we'd rather forget. He will become a Death Eater and he will serve his Master as he is willed. And their is nothing anyone could have done to stop it. I told him as much."

"You hope to turn him from his path?"

"It sounds wrong to say, but no. Plenty of people can still walk away from the war but it is too late for him and me. We have so little left to fight for. Malfoy's name has been dragged into the mud, the thing they valued so highly. He loves his father dearly so let him fight besides him at least till Lucius is no more. Betrayers are curses unto themselves. Pettigrew dammed me and himself when he betrayed those he swore brotherhood with. What did he gain? Twelve years as a rat and a silver hand. Snape thought to repent in the name of the Light and has been doomed to be nothing more than a lonely man who grows more bitter every year. Let Malfoy find what joy he can. When there is nothing else to live for there is no reason to fight anymore."

"And what to you live for?" Amos quietly asked. Vulnerable emerald eyes met golden ones.

"Sometimes….I don't know. It seems so easy to tell everyone to bugger off and become nothing more than a hermit on some island. I've lost so much in this war and will still lose more. But…what of my friends? I pushed some and shut some out but I still can't forget these were the people that first reached out in friendship."

"Then my child, you still have something to live for."

And maybe Harry really did.

TBC…..

**S**

**AN: I'm back…..:grin:…Miss me? So the story is moving on and I haven't much to really say to my adoring public so I'll maintain my silence and give of the impression of intelligence rather than keep on talking and prove everyone wrong.**

**Just to remind everyone, if you have plot suggestions feel free to sent them in. I appreciate it! (Thanks Malach)**

**Cheers!****Review or I shall be very cross!**

**Review or I shall bring the wrath of Tor, god of Thunder, upon all those that shy away from this sacred duty….yeah that's enough out of me.**

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**S**


	14. Fire of the Raven

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

**AN: I corrected some errors and changed a sentence or two. **

**Fire of the Raven**

_He's been asking about your finances._

_-Tonks_

**T**he note was short. Altogether cryptic and definitely worrying.

Tonks had kept in touch since summer as both learned more about the legacy that had been denied them.

As the daughter of the disowned Andromeda Black Tonks she had lived most of her life with the knowledge she was part of the traditions that were so plentiful and symbolic in the Wizarding world. But in the eyes of magic she was nothing more than a half-blood at best. As a child she had been inducted into the rights of the Black Family secretly by her mother who patiently waited for the day that Sirius overthrew the pureblood fanatics of their family. When Sirius fell under suspicion Andromeda must have surely mourned the end of her family. The formidable woman herself had written to Harry and thanked him for reviving the Black name. Since then she had been incredibly helpful as she opened lines of communication to their European cousins, Cassione and Vitalli, both of which had maintained a distant relationship with the Blacks after they became public supporters of Voldemort.

As a member of the Order, Tonks had conflicting loyalties. For years it had been an unspoken policy to not involve Harry in the war effort. At least it had been Dumbledore's policy in any case. But now Tonks owned fealty to her Lord as she had been instructed since she was little more than a toddler. It became difficult when Harry and her Lord were the same person.

As a rule Harry didn't ask about Order business and Tonks in return passed on only news that involved him. The fact that the Order had discussed Harry's chances at being accepted into Auror Training was slightly disturbing. Especially since he had made it clear he did not want to be an Auror when first he spurned Potions. The knowledge that Dumbledore was looking into his financial empire perturbed him. It wasn't so much the fact that Dumbledore knew what he controlled; it was the channels the man would seek to know such information.

There was a price to gain such private information.

It worried Harry that Dumbledore would risk paying it.

It wasn't only the betrayal of his privacy and trust. How far would Dumbledore go to learn such secrets? What would he barter just so he might keep a reign over his Golden Boy?

**F**reckles stood out like drops of blood on the pale face of Ronald Weasley.

He wasn't yelling, he wasn't swearing vengeance or concocting wild rescue plans. Instead the boy sat limply, his gangly limps gathered near his body. There was something stricken and fragile about the boy, something that had never been there.

When he was eleven he understood sacrifice.

When he was twelve he felt true fear for others.

When he was fifteen he discovered the meaning of mortality.

And an hour ago he relearned all those over again.

It started out as Hogsmeade weekend, the younger years twitched in excitement and the older ones pretended indifference.

Harry had taken the day to reread some of Salazar Slytherin's journal. If the founder was anything it was brilliant. His research into parsel magic was fascinating while his core magic theories were revolutionizing even today. It was a pity the man had apparently suffered from heavy paranoia. The world would have remembered Slytherin distinctly different if his work had ever been released.

Harry had returned to his common room only to find overexcited and hysterical students.

Eventually he managed to piece the story together.

Around noon Death Eaters had appeared intent on kidnapping two students. Harry had heard rumors of other kidnappings but either their own fear or the Ministry had kept the events hidden. He doubted even Dumbledore would have heard about Voldemort's new campaign.

The target students had so far only been identified as younger years, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. Members of the former DA had been on hand and had risen to defend their schoolmates.

They had not counted on superior numbers.

In the confusion that followed and what appeared to be the partial destruction of Hogsmeade market area four students were taken.

Ginny Weasley had been among the missing.

**E**ven in a crisis McGonagall strictly upheld her duty.

Hogwarts had fallen into high alert as the castle was put on watch for anymore Death Eater attacks. Unfortunately for students this meant quarantine.

Yet McGonagall didn't forget her Gryffindors and though she wasn't the type to offer comfort she shared what news she could.

The missing had all been identified.

Ethan Thatcher of Ravenclaw, third year.

Maeve McNevin of Gryffindor, fourth year.

Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor, sixth year.

Brunus Montague of Slytherin, third year.

Harry sat silently next to Ron while glaring at anyone that even thought to approach the distract seventh year. Normally Ron would have been removed from his House and given over to his parents or professors. However there was no one that could watch him as everyone scrambled to locate the missing.

In the meantime Ron sat in the middle of a full room completely alone. Dimly he felt Harry's presence but other than that he had retreated into himself.

All they could do was pray.

And even that irked Harry. They prayed for Ginny, McNevin, and Thatcher.

Brunus Montague was a Slytherin third year whose friends were mostly Ravenclaws, Thatcher among them. Normally Harry wouldn't have known nearly as much about a younger year except that Montague was son of his ally, Lord Axtros Montague. The Montague family had been supporters of Voldemort in the first war; however his temporary defeat had made them cautious. They had been skittish about their support since the beginning of the second war. Finally around last Christmas they broke ties with the Dark Lord. They weren't foolish enough to believe there would be no repercussions.

Harry heard the tale from a Death Eater who had the misfortune of drinking too much in questionable places such as the Dark Carus bar. Especially when two werewolves and a wizard recognized you for what you were and weren't opposed to causing bodily harm.

Death Eaters had been ordered to apprehend the eldest son of Montague, a Slytherin graduate who had been Chaser when Harry was a first year. The plan was to Mark the boy into the service of the Dark Lord and kill the father. With the boy marked the Montague resources would be open to the Dark Order once more. What they hadn't counted on was the boy's resistance. He protected his family from the Dark Order the only way he knew how and in doing so lost his life.

A little known fact Voldemort had freely admitted to and Dumbledore must have surely buried in his skeleton closet was the knowledge that as a magical contract closely associated with soul magic, the Mark could only be taken willingly.

Young Montague had been tortured with the hopes he would submit to the Magic.

Now they had taken Brunus Montague.

Harry sighed.

And typical Gryffindors could not see that Thatcher had only been an accident and Montague would need more than prayers to save him now.

McNevin on the other hand was the daughter of a pureblood neutral family. More importantly she was the doted granddaughter of Lord Elias McNevin and his most recent ally. Neutral families were rather hesitant to throw their lot with anyone but in this war neutrality was becoming an endangered commodity.

He hoped it was only coincidence that his allies had been target. It was still too early to move freely among the wizards.

Every minute that passed counted against Thatcher and Ginny. Both came from influential enough families that the Death Eaters would pause at killing them but that wouldn't protect them for long. In the game of war the pair had been mere _accidents._

Harry tensed suddenly.

It was time.

"Seamus, help me take Ron up to his room. I've enough of gits pestering him." Seamus nodded silently and a nearby sixth year huffed indignantly.

Harry hadn't bothered to be quiet about his opinions.

Together they hauled the unresponsive boy to his bed. Neville and Dean trailed behind them conveniently slowing down anyone that misguidedly hoped to keep vigil with the boy.

"Mates, I need you to keep the prats out of this room. It isn't helping Ron to be around them. I'll leave it up to you to decide which of his friends can come in."

"Where ar—", began Dean before Neville elbowed him.

Harry smiled gratefully and slipped out the door.

What they didn't know they couldn't tell.

The Gryffindor showers were amusingly enough the only empty room in the whole of the Tower. Not for the first time he wished the dorms had been elsewhere where more space could be found.

Scanning the showers for any monitoring spells Harry took a deep breath….and faded into thin air.

Opening them he was ironically relieved to stare into the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin. Teleporting required more power and was infinitely more difficult than Apparating, the only reason why the Ministry did not bother to monitor this form of transportation.

He'd been lucky to perform the feat of magic perfectly the first time. Of course he'd gleaned the knowledge from dreams of a younger Voldemort but never before had he actually tried it.

Too bad for Voldemort the Founders' wards guarded against teleporting. Of course that didn't prevent anyone from teleporting within the wards.

Which was why Harry now found himself slipping out through the tunnel system of the Chamber of Secrets in a school otherwise under lockdown.

It was time for Lord Morrigan to come.

**His** hair was the color of chocolate that spilled down his back to be simply bound at his nape. His eyes where icy green, like the heart a glacier or the first sign of green life. He wore a dark blue cloak that served to hide a grey battle robe that split at his sides to reveal comfortable blue trousers. Specially made Basilisk boots gleamed softly in the night.

Lord Morrigan stood in the Forbidden Forest.

Around him floated small spheres of white colored magic. Standing still and listening to something only he could anyone passing by would have mistaken the scene for something out of a dream. One sphere flashed red, the color of freshly spilled blood. It bobbed gently as it neared its master.

Glacier eyes watched with interest.

"Lead me."

A moment later dozens of little spheres lit bright red and shot toward the sky. High in the atmosphere they blazed like a fallen comet.

The Forbidden Forest was once more empty.

**N**ear the north most tip of Scotland lay the Orkney Islands. They were once famed as the home of witches and wild creatures that bowed to ancient gods in Muggle fairytales. In the modern day, the Isles were still alive with the magic of ages. If Muggles cared to look close enough they would see the signs even today.

**O**wen Sigismund was a man of no significant wealth. His family had always maintained just enough capital to possess the lifestyle and arrogance of the upper-class and little else. However as a youth even that disappeared. By the time he inherited his ancestral castle his family was still rich if only in debt. Disillusioned, Sigismund was a perfect candidate for the ideology Voldemort fore-fronted.

Nowadays the remote Sigismund Castle in the Orkney Islands served as a prison for people of 'interest' to Voldemort.

Not that the four Hogwarts students knew any of this as they were tagged to damp cells within the Castle.

A little over 200 meters away Lord Morrigan paused in the shadows. The spheres had disappeared, their duty done.

That particular bit of magic was a charm known as _vinculum cruentus,_ highly illegal blood magic. In order to cast it properly the blood of the subject or a close relation had to be used in the spell work. It had been outlawed since the days of Slytherin. Not that it stopped the founder from recording it.

Harry felt a bit guilty for involving Ron in such illegal working. But if it helped find his sister, Harry figured Ron would forgive him.

**S**igismund Castle must have once been the jewel of the countryside with its proud towers and impressive outer wall. Now a day it was just above being classified as a ruin.

Lord Morrigan stood completely still. His eyes were trained on the ground in front of him as he saw something only he could.

Sigismund Castle had once held fierce and deadly wards. Overtime the wards had fallen into disappear as every year a little bit of magic escaped the runic patters and dissipated into wild magic. It was a testament to the previous inhabitants that the wards prevented intruders even today. Death Eaters must have merely felt inclined to cast standard protection wards over the castle. Such a large structure required multiple casters of significant power or things could end very badly for everyone involved. Often time such precautions were only enacted in the most desperate of times.

Hogwarts herself had always held strongly mainly because of the yearly reinforcement the professors cast.

He neither had the time or energy to destroy the wards in a wild outburst of power nor felt like inciting a battle while the hostages were anywhere other than in his keeping. Instead he opted to help deteriorate the patter runes of protection in its already weakened west wall.

A half an hour later he finally felt the magic shifting, the runes struggling weakly to bind while runes of Harry's making spun wildly in the pattern, eroding any sense of order.

And just as if there was nothing there Harry ran swiftly across the clearing that surrounded the Castle.

Every second clung sluggishly. This was the most dangerous part. If the Castle had guards posted there was no way Harry would not be spotted. It was a risk he had to take. Having disabled all the active wards on the west wall he had opted to ignore the more passive ones like the ones that prevented invisibility and animagus transformation. They might have been old but they were quite strong because they were inactive most of the time.

Amusingly enough most of these wards were dead useful and illegal now a day for one inane reason or another.

The Castle was cloaked in the original runic version of the Notice-Me-Not charm. It was powerful enough that even most wizards would walk past the castle without giving it any mind. However it certainly wasn't up to par with the Fidelus Charm.

His back was pressed against the cold stonework. From his spot Harry willed his magic to call on his creations.

Harry cringed.

The burst of light in front of him was noticeable enough. Thankfully any passerby couldn't see the light unless they were looking directly down the Castle wall.

In front of him three creatures of magic manifested.

Slytherin wrote many theories about magic explaining its complexity and subtleties.

Harry had summed it up quite nicely after a particularly nasty headache.

_Magic could do everything and nothing._

Following that theory Harry called the Montague _nuntius_ bird, a little fire owl that reminded him of Ron's Pig. He had expected his ice phoenix bird to hear the magical call and come merely because it was the most in tune with the 'taste' of his magic simply because it had spent the most time with him.

The water based flying penguin was another matter.

He recognized it as one of his last experiments and for the life of him couldn't remember which wizarding family he had sent it too.

The penguin landed abruptly. It waddled to him and looked around curiously. Quaking once indignantly it disappeared.

During the whole spectacle Harry didn't dare blink.

Sometimes magic baffled even its own rules.

The Montague nuntius bird fluttered softly before landing on Harry shoulder. If it disturbed him to be able to look through the creature no one could tell.

Originally Harry had sent the bird to the 'Montague Family and its Lord'. Magic often times followed things annoying to the fine print.

Harry was counting on that.

If the bird had 'marked' its host then theoretically it could lead Harry to the boy. Find one hostage he surely would find them all.

Years ago an oak sapling had been allowed to flourish besides the North West Wall. The Lady of the time had thought it gave the stone monstrosity a more 'welcoming' aura. No gardener had dared face that task with any clippers since then. Having grown so near the magical wards of the Wall itself it was impossible to use magic on the tree without engaging the defensive wards. As it saw it there was little difference between a Trimming Charm and a Reductor Curse.

His body swung and twisted through knotted branches and leaves touched by the dew clung to him. At the top of the turret he grumbled.

There went the illusion of the knight in shinning armor. Now he was merely a parsel-glamored walking bush.

The moon had climbed higher on the sky. He'd never learned to tell time by looking at the sky but he was pretty sure it was past midnight. Most likely two a.m approached.

Voldemort would be mortified.

Either that or the most wizards were incompetent. Most pureblooded ones anyway.

They dependent on their magic so much when that failed they were often caught unprepared. Caught sleeping.

The Wall was empty. Harry had the sudden obscene urge to whistle. But even he wasn't that much of a fool to tempt fate.

A simple levitation charm later he was on the ground and running. Sending a vibration through his magic, the Montague bird flew besides him a second later.

The previous calm bird disappeared and in its wake it looked more like Hedwig after she had lost Harry. It hooted once angrily as it went off in search of its 'chick'.

Proper wizarding dueling etiquette rarely involves physical contact. Wizards are trained how to combat magically from a prescribed distance away unless both parties agree to use traditional weapons. However anyone still alive at this point in the war had taken a crash course in running.

Harry ran. He couldn't go as fast as he wanted or the _nuntius_ bird seemed to think he could go. What the annoying piece of flying light forgot was that Harry had to remember how to get _out_ after he found the children.

He did _not_ volunteer as a prisoner.

They had entered though the oldest part of the castle and even Harry knew better than to waste time checking this area. The prisoners would be held in a place with more resent magical wards to hinder if not prevent escape. Most likely somewhere in the more up kept part of the castle.

Sigismund Castle was apparently not a key strategic point by any means. Harry had read of another place utilized in the same manner. As a transitional holding place.

Back in the first war Voldemort had also resorted to kidnapping the loved ones of his more wavering followers. As a precaution many took to inducing tracking potions that would last up to a week with the faint effects lingering for up to two. In retaliation Voldemort took to shuffling his prisoners nightly. By the time the hostages' location was found by the few suicidal people that attempted rescue the hostages were moved to another location. By the end of the first week the potions effects would be hidden behind most wards permanently.

There were various tracking potions and it was almost impossible to tell which ones had been applied. His werewolf friends said most people had a trusted friend or family member acquire the potions so they themselves would not be able to reveal anything under _Veritaserum_.

It was amazing the level of paranoia that festered. Of course Harry felt inclined to believe a little paranoia never did anyone any harm.

The bolt on the outside of the door was the first sign. The startled Death Eater standing guard was the second.

Neither was much of a hindrance.

His ice phoenix flew in front of Harry in a brilliant aura of light. Behind the creature a sharp blow with the pommel of his dagger met the Death Eaters' head with a dull sound. Ripping the black robes he bound the man tightly. Most prisons, including this one where warded against wand magic unless you were keyed in.

Using the Death Eaters own wand he shot eight different scanning spells before he dared open the door. The wand felt _wrong_ in his grasp, his magic being forced out sluggishly though a tight fit. Several times the wand strained under Harry's power, almost 'shorting out' twice.

They crouched huddled against the far wall as if trying to claw their way out. The cell was dirty and it must have been unused for some time. Soot covered children stared wide-eyed at the door, trembling with hunger and fear. McNevin and Montague were relatively unharmed, Thatcher had a long gash across his face and another clearly on his arm.

The true piece of work was Ginny Weasley. As the daughter of known Order Members she'd received little of the mercy age had granted the others.

She lay unresponsive, her body still in the position they must have dumped her in. Her breathing was erratic indicating more than one broken rib. Her arm hung awkwardly as did her left leg. Already most of the visible skin was turning a collage of blue and purple smeared with ruby red that spilled from the many small knife wounds on her body.

Ginny truly had little luck. First Riddle's Diary and now this.

Harry sighed wearily.

"W-What d-do you w-want now?" asked the girl.

Brave Gryffindors.

"Ms. McNevin, Mr. Montague, and Mr. Thatcher I presume?"

The children gave trembling nods. They feared the worst. Even they had heard of the hushed up kidnappings. It wasn't difficult to figure out why they were targeted.

Which was why Montague gaped stupidly when the midget sized fire-owl manifested in the room with them.

"Afie!" cried the boy.

What was it with the _nuntius_ charm birds and naming them?

" 'Afie?'" He sighed. "I don't want to know. I honestly don't. Come along Mr. Montague. I didn't spend half an hour strolling over centuries old dust so we might chat here."

"Go where! How did you get Afie!" cried Montague. Already kidnapped by strangers he wasn't sure it was a wise policy to follow another one.

"We're escaping of course. At least Miss Weasley is not awake for this."

Before they could say a word Harry swooped down and picked up the unconscious sixth year. Even in sleep a flicker of pain crossed the pale face.

"I don't know how long before the guard shifts or how much time we have. We'll know soon enough. You are old enough to find some common sense, I can't be watching over you, as it is my hands are occupied. Hurry along now!" Harry called out as cheerfully as he could.

Somewhere Dumbledore paused and shivered for no reason.

"Afie be as kind as too lead us the way we came."

Together Harry and the bird meandered through the hallways. The fire-owl pointed them in the general direction while Harry tried to explain to it why they could not walk though walls.

He didn't have much success.

It was foolish returning to the path of his passing but Harry didn't want to try his luck navigating to another exit within this maze. At least this way they still stood a chance.

Thatcher limped heavily but after a sharp glance from Harry as the boy started to fall behind McNevin and Montague practically dragged the Ravenclaw.

Teamwork between houses; such a wonderful thing to see these days.

Ginny moaned disgruntly in her sleep and Harry prayed she'd stay that way. He'd have to carry her anyway and at least this way the girl who lived to identify all of Harry Potter's quirks wouldn't get too curious.

They had been walking as fast they could for 20 minutes when they heard it.

It sounded like a mix between the merfolks language and a troll's wail.

"That, children, is how you announce a prison break." Harry informed the students as if it was nothing more than a triviality.

Somewhere Dumbledore rubbed his arms as goose bumps crawled on his skin. That is till he got distracted when he noticed if you connected the bumps the face of Uric the Oddball appeared.

The moon hid behind clouds that had steadily been growing all night. In the shadows the group paused. Together they stared at the courtyard that suddenly seemed much longer than Harry remembered.

"Can you make us invisible?" asked Thatcher as he rested wearily against the wall.

"Perhaps another time. Invisibility wards and all."

Harry studied the situation.

"Two at a time it will be. Montague and Thatcher you're up first. Run to the far outer wall, stay as low as you can without slowing and never turn back. Hide in the shadows. I know you're tired but everything is almost over."

The boys sprinted across the grounds. Thatcher ran with an odd gait as he clearly favored one leg.

"Ready Ms. McNevin." The Gryffindor paled at the thought.

Harry ran as fast as he could, wincing as every step jostled his burden.

"There!"

Shit.

He glanced behind him. Pale torchlight illuminated two wizards. Already their wands were in the air and an incantation on their lips.

"Don't Stop!" Harry yelled at the terrified child at his side.

It was time to call out the heavy magic.

Sickly yellow light streaked in a wide arc toward him.

Shit.

McNevin was far enough that she only stumbled when the curse hit ground. Harry wasn't as lucky.

He was in the air before he could stop. Twisting he brought Ginny's body on top of him. The poor girl did not need him landing on her to top the evening.

He rolled her off him and was on his feet in one graceful motion. It was terribly unfair he couldn't use his wand without splattering his magical signature all over and the Death Eater wand was extremely ineffective in his hand. He'd almost blown it up performing a scanning charm.

Of course he wasn't sure who it was unfair to.

He was powerful enough to channel magic without a wand but not skilled enough to temper the torrent that would escape if he called it thus.

Oh well. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hissing a simple parsel-Reductor Curse equivalent he watched brilliant icy blue light stream from his palms. It raced across the distance like a floodgate opened. The Death Eaters knew they couldn't outrun it. A bronze shield started to build in front of them.

It wasn't enough. The shield faded as if it were no more than silk. Death Eaters spun in icy fire as they crashed into the castle wall with a sickening crack. The blue fire, uncontrolled, didn't even pause as it crashed against the very castle itself and tore it a new entryway, a thirteen foot one at that. Without a wand he couldn't control the amount of magic flowing from him. He had taken the risk that he didn't accidentally release enough magic to join Atlantis at the bottom of the ocean.

"So much for secrecy. Take cover!"

Another light erupted from his palms, this time the outer wall faced a redecoration. It exploded outwards like a soda under too much pressure. They were all close enough that gravel fell on their dusty heads.

All four stared in silence.

"Wicked cool." Said Montague breaking the moment.

"We have to get far enough to get out of the wards. Run till I tell you!"

Already they scrambled over the scattered boulders in their path. He felt a sharp pain travel from his right leg but he didn't dare stop to see the damage. He just hoped the yellow curse was not anything awful.

Harry bent to pick up Ginny only to meet the foggy pain filled eyes of the girl.

"Wha…whe…" she croaked weakly.

"Shush…this is going to hurt." With that Harry was sprinting after the students. Ginny whimpered but other than that she made no other motion.

50 meters…….100……150 ….…175…….200 meters!

"Gather round. We're going to take a trip."

Thinking Harry had a portkey they grasped his cloak.

Only to become disoriented as their bodies seemed to expand for a moment before contracting once more.

In the middle of St.Mungo.

"Maeve!", cried a woman.

**S**t. Mungo had seen many strange things over the years.

In 1989 a naked man walked in and insisted he was a transfigured goat. He was later proven correct when it was confirmed a tipsy wizard wandered into a farm.

In 1992 three people came in with broken bones caused by a bowling alley pile-up. It was never understood how the accident was caused.

In 1965 a woman disappeared from the third floor restroom only to be found entombed in an Aztec grave twenty-three years later.

So they only jumped a few centimeters instead of meters when five bloody, dusty, and previously missing people appeared in the lobby having completely bypassed the apparation wards.

Everyone else erupted in a panic as someone yelled Death Eaters.

They couldn't quite understand why they were all frozen a second later.

"Silence…." Harry murmured in appreciating. Unfreezing St. Mungo personnel and what appeared to be Maeve's family he was instantly swarmed.

Ginny was spirited away as Healers descended on them.

They clucked in disapproval as they tried to extract Maeve from her mother's arms while the woman sobbed almost hysterically as she named a long list of saints in appreciation.

"Eh?...sir?" called out Thatcher. "That's my dad and mum there."

A second later they too descended on their child

Both couples had spent the early part of the day hovering over officials as they waited for news. Frustrated they realized if their children were recovered they would most likely be taken to St. Mungo first.

Having spent a nerve wracking afternoon imagining scenario after scenario their hearts nearly stopped as a strange man calmly appeared in the lobby with their very children at his side.

"Where is he! Where's my son! Brunus!" yelled a stately man that was anything but as he burst into the building.

News traveled fast.

"Father!"

Harry waited patiently as the lobby exploded in a cacophony of voices and that was even with the other patients frozen.

Smiling sheepishly at them he wandlessly unfroze them. This time they cautiously began speaking all the meantime keeping a wary eye on Harry.

Lord Axtros Montague and Lord Elias McNevin couldn't have been anymore different. Montague was tall, dark, and in his prime. McNevin on the other hand was a short heavy-set man with lively brown eyes and a full head of white hair.

"I would like to know your name so my family might thank you appropriately. My son is much beloved and I fear I could not have survived to lose another child in the same manner." Began Montague.

"I only did what your families have right to ask of me as my allies. My name is Donovan Morrigan, Lord of Morrigan."

To their credit they did not gape. They merely looked at Harry wide-eyed for several moments.

TBC…..

**S**

**Donovan- dark warrior (Gaelic)….I didn't know but Evan also means warrior(Celtic)**

**Maeve-goddess (Greek)**

**Ethan-constant (Latin)**

**cruentus : bloody**

**vinculum : tie, chain**

**S**

**AN: This ending is just tormenting all of you isn't it!** (_laughs madly_) **Well I wanted to post this as soon as possible so forgive me if it's a little messed up. If there's parts you don't understand tell me and I'll just repost it (correctly), I don't have Beta so it's all up to me…I guess.**

**My action? To be honest this may not be my first time writing fiction but this is the first time I ever try action so forgive if it sounds corny. I'll try harder next time(yes there will be more….its war, duh.)**

**S**

**Thank you for all your reviews!**

**Thanks for reviewing: HarrySlytherinson, Malach, Lucullus, FireGazer, Hermione the Slayer, ShadowedRains, A-man, amigo, loralee1, kensa, bandgsecurityaw, snowboardsandsunshine, Khadon, Japanese-jew, jbfritz, AlL rOaDs LeAd To HeLl, Dark-PhoneixX1988, Qem, -never-, Chiara Crawford, Lord Master Omega, sabriel-chan, Shadow101, betsannetwo, zzlostdreamerzz, **

**S**

**Side notes on the:**

**Morrigan-goddess of battle, strife, and fertility**

"_The Great Queen"  
_**_Morrigan was one of the greatest "negative"_****_  
_****_archetypal Mother goddesses of the Irish Celtic. _****_  
_****_She is a goddess of war, death, prophecy and passionate love._****_  
_****_Together with Badb and Macha_****_  
_****_she build a triad of three warlike goddesses. _**

_The Morrigu is prophetess of all misfortune in battle and has knowledge of the fate of humanity. She is also the messenger of death as the dark lady/washer at the ford : Morrigan is seen washing bloody laundry prior to battle by those destined to die. _

_As a protectress she empowers an individual to confront challenges with great personal strength, even against seemingly overwhelming odds_

**S**

**REVIEW!...the more you review the more the sooner I update! Give me incentive here! And YES! I have NO shame!**

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	15. Circle of Tongues

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

**Circle of Tongues**

**D**onovan Morrigan.

The name was quietly spoken to the two lords yet it in only minutes everyone present heard the whispered rumors.

Lord Morrigan, Heir of Ravenclaw.

The patriarchic law of the family had once confined the only blood-heir of the Morrigan's nearly a thousand years ago. The lady in question, Rowena Morrigan, had only been expected to marry and produce a male heir to bear the name of the Family.

Instead the woman went on to be one of four founders of one of the most renowned magical schools. But the fierce woman was proud; hated by her father for being his daughter she would not have her legacy tainted by his memory. History remembers Rowena Morrigan as Lady Ravenclaw. Eventually the woman married and in the great scheme of things her line lived on when she bore a son to take up the name of Morrigan. However she forever changed her Family by marking them as the children of one of the greatest witches to walk this earth, the Heirs of Ravenclaw.

The line had held a erratic existence in recent history. The family had disappeared in the late 1700s only to reappear again in the mid1800s. It again disappeared at the turn of the century when no male Heir was born to officially hold the Morrigan Family.

Nearly a century later in a slightly overcrowded waiting room with nary a reporter in sight the Morrigan family returned to wizarding society.

The fact that the Wizard in question just rescued four Hogwarts students from the Dark Order made them pause. The fact that he did so single-handedly stumped them. The fact that he succeeded where Dumbledore and the Ministry had failed left them properly awed.

**A**xtros Montague had served for many years as Lord of his bloodline and had dedicated even longer than that to train for the position. A former Slytherin he'd been trained early on to recognize power. A devout pureblood he acknowledged the death of his son would end his Family name.

When news first came of his missing son he had felt the same terrible fear he'd first encountered when his eldest son went missing. Neither he nor his wife would bear to hear the dreaded news that his son had died in the same manner as his brother. Frankly Axtros doubted his wife would continue in this world if both her children left for the next. Their marriage had been arranged but both had quickly become fond of each other and by the time their eldest was toddler they'd admitted their love. It would tear his world apart if his family was destroyed, something he didn't think he could survive.

The remaining Montague family had waited at Hogwarts as Professors and Aurors cast one after another tracking charm. With each failure the next spell was upped in its complexity and even more time was wasted as another was cast. Aurors huddled discussing known Death Eater locations and where they would most likely be held.

Fudge had spared no expense in tracking down the missing. Harry himself had learned first hand how vicious the wizarding public could be. If it came out that children had been taken from their school Dumbledore would suffer a blow of confidence. Any other time Fudge would have gladly stood back and watched the downfall of the Headmaster if not for the fact that the children of two Great Families had been taken.

There were so many possibilities the future might turn that Fudge could not help but fear for his career if the children were not found. He had spent years courting neutral families as it became clear that they would become involved in the war as time dragged on. If given a choice Fudge believed McNevin might choose to support Dumbledore. McNevin was influential enough that his decision would sway many other families. If swayed to the proper path his faith would go a long way in rebuilding his personal reputation.

Montague on the other hand was admittedly dark and not much of a bother to sway but failure in this case would bring the famed wrath of Lord Montague on anyone who failed to retrieve his son. With the death of his Heir, Montague would spare no expense in destroying as many as he could.

It was after all a well-known fact he'd promised so over the grave that held the few recovered body parts of his eldest son.

The sun had dragged across the sky with agonizing slowness. Every minute tore apart

the peaceful world of yesterday a bit more.

And Axtros did not want to believe any of it.

The last wisp of light had faded when Afie, the fire-born owl, came to him. Axtros had avoided calling her in public for fear his alliances would hurt the search for his son. He could trust Dumbledore to continue faithfully but Fudge was a too much of a moron sometimes.

The bird hooted softly, startling more than one person in the Great Hall. Aurors leapt to their feet, recognizing the bird to be similar in nature to one they had been trying to apprehend a couple weeks past.

Behind it the icy-blue specter of a phoenix trailed it, it's song though not the same as a real phoenix still sang with magic being a creature of magic itself.

Together they cried once before disappearing.

There was much he knew and much he didn't. But he suspected Lord Morrigan had sited with him and now offered his aid. Meeting the red-eyes of his wife he knew he was not alone in his assumptions.

Weeks previous the Lord Morrigan's first inquiry had arrived. Politically alone after having cut his ties with the not per say dark factions but certainly more evil inclined Morrigan's offer had seemed too good to be true.

Their alliance was more of a tentative truce. Montague would conduct itself above reproach and Morrigan would not look their way hostility. If Montague wished for a deeper accord then their support would be accepted in exchange for Morrigan's alliance.

Axtros Montague was not a man to be spontaneous or easily swayed yet even he had been awed at his ally's display of magic. His wife, an expert in charms had to look up the _nuntius_ charm from the archives. The fact that few wizards alive could cast them was impressive; the fact that numerous _nuntius_-birds if rumors were to be believed were currently dwelling with other wizarding families was simply surprising.

He'd thrown in his lot with the mysterious wizard. Having followed one Heir of a founder it was ironic he'd abandon him only to take the banner of another.

For if the Heir of Ravenclaw was in fact the man calmly standing in St. Mungo simply radiating power as only Voldemort and Dumbledore could then the tide of the war would turn. The Dark Lord and the Headmaster were evenly matched, both hindered and helped by the Ministry at times.

Donovan Morrigan could change all that.

**H**arry wasn't sure if he should be amused or annoyed. No matter his guise he had always managed to reap the same effects. Fate must have marked him cruelly.

For Harry Potter was none other than He-Who-Shall-Inspire-Gawking.

"Lord McNevin, Lord Montague, a pleasure to finally meet you." Harry said smoothly. No reason not to make the best impression possible.

Montague came to his senses first.

"You honor me, Lord Morrigan. This day has been trying and when the _nuntius_ left I had hoped it might mean your aid." Montague paused, the mask on his face seemed to slip of for a second. "I can never express my gratitude for the safe return of my son. My eldest child suffered the same fate with a far worse outcome. I have offered you the support of the Montague Family before but I would swear it now to you in person."

Harry couldn't hide all his surprise.

Montague was making a bold move by swearing his support in front of such an audience. The fact that he wanted it publicly known was both a slap in the face to Fudge and Dumbledore, reminding them they had failed in their promises as well as serving as a vote of confidence toward Morrigan. It also served to tell everyone Montague was under the protection of a man who not only bypassed the Dark Order's defenses but succeeded where the leader of the Light Dumbledore could not.

Stealing a glance at McNevin, Harry resisted the urge to snicker. It also forced McNevin to declare his alliances finally or else appear less than honorable than Montague.

McNevin was a harder man to read than Montague. The man had been Neutral for much of his life and had no wish to participate even when forced. Morrigan had offered him the best alliance and his demands were easiest to deal with. But Harry would not put it past some Lords to accept his alliance in hopes of spying for another faction.

Pettigrew made sure he would never forget that lesson.

"I, Axtros Jarvis Montague, Lord of the Montague line, swear my allegiance and vow my support to Donovan Morrigan, Lord of the Morrigan line, Heir of Ravenclaw."

"I, Donovan Morrigan, Lord of Morrigan, swear my allegiance and vow my support to Axtros Montague, Lord of Montague."

The two clasped hands traditionally sealing a pact between Families.

McNevin stepped forward.

"I must thank you in the name of the McNevin Family as its Lord for retrieving my granddaughter. Both her parents and I cannot begin to express our gratitude. My little Maeve is but yet a child and as such the life-debt she has incurred cannot be repaid as of yet. I offer the aid of the McNevin family till such a time."

Harry's first instinct strangely enough was to blush. Life-debts were serious things in the wizarding world. While he wanted to say it was no trouble he knew purebloods generally held life-debts in high regard. It would be an insult to their pride to shrug the debt off as if it was nothing.

"You honor my Family." Harry responded while bowing his head.

Truth be told that was more than Harry was expecting from a Neutral family. They weren't the type to offer anything that could be viewed as support to factions during war much less promise aid.

But like he knew, life-debts were serious business.

Glancing at the other lord Harry remembered the senior Montague was the type to delegate that bond to be dealt personally by his son when he was well enough.

"I know you both must be anxious to see your family and I will hold you no longer. The _nuntius_ charms have proven more long-lasting than indented and will hold for much of the foreseeable future. Should you need me sent the charm birds, they alone can find me. Unfortunately I will not be able to attend the Wizengamot meeting next weekend. In my stead a representative will stand. Another ally of mine can answer concerns you should find, you will know him when he introduced himself. He is a much sought after pawn in many chessboards and his loyalties should be expected but never are. Till then, I thank you for your support and hope for the recovery of your family members. But I must excuse myself, the Headmaster seems most anxious to interrogate me." Harry finished off with a delicate sneer as he eyed the Headmaster sudden entry closely followed by Snape and Mad-Eye Moody as representatives of Hogwarts and the Auror ranks while he himself stood in for the Wizengamot.

Bowing his head to both men Harry calmly walked to the Headmaster. He had to admit he was more than a little nervous. This was the real test. Could he fool the wily Headmaster as well as pass the magical inspection of Mad-Eye Moody?

He was pretty sure parsel-magic could not be broken by Moody's eye but that did nothing to dispel his fears. He'd already had a year of experience practicing to be someone other than Harry Potter and no one had ever suspected a thing. But he admitted he'd never dealt with people that knew Harry under the guise of Evan Mortifer.

They might not have known who he was but they did not miss the wide-eyed looks many in the room were giving him.

The trio had been at Hogwarts searching with little success when news had come from an Order member that worked at St. Mungos. The students had been rescued by none other than the shadowy Lord Morrigan.

Harry walked toward them as soon as they arrived. It was to his advantage that the trio not be informed of the particulars of the last couple of minutes. The less Dumbledore knew the easier it would be to deal with.

"Mr. Morrigan? I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, my associates Auror Alastor Moody and Professor Severus Snape. I hoped I might be able to catch you before you departed. I had hoped you might be able to answer a few questions I had." Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Harry merely raised his eyebrow.

"The Aurors Division would also like a report on the events." Moody said gruffly.

"Is that so?"

"We must insist in this matter." Snape fought to tame the perpetual scowl on his face and as result managed to look ill.

Harry had to applaud Dumbledore for being a fast thinker. To be interrogated by a Death Eater, a Ministry employ, and Dumbledore himself. Dumbledore wanted to observe to which of the three Harry would lean towards. Lord Morrigan's allegiance was after all not very well known. It also helped all there were either Dumbledore himself or reported to him.

Too bad he belonged to no one but himself.

"May then we find a private room to speak?"

"If you could accompany us to Hogwarts it would be much appreciated." The Headmaster suggested warmly.

"I am a very busy man and I've little time. I'm sure the St. Mungo's staff would not mind terribly if they lend us a room for a few minutes."

"Security could be compromised." Moody barked, his eye all the while moving in a repetitive fashion.

"I'm sure with the Headmaster here it should be no problem to set the appropriate wards."

"Of course Mr. Morrigan." The Headmaster continued amiably enough except his smile was not as warm as it was a few seconds ago.

Harry just smirked.

He wasn't about to let them take him to their territory, practically putting himself in their power. Besides the shorter the meeting the better it was for him. He could certainly trust the short-tempered staff that had already suffered too much excitement for one night to evict them soon enough.

Dumbledore signaled an attendant and began a whispered conversation. The remaining three just observed each other wearily in silence.

Snape's scowl deepened.

"Donovan Morrigan is it? I am most curious at the events that transpired." Dumbledore began smoothly as all four sat down in a meeting room.

"I imagine so."

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that they were about to reenact the bad-cop/good-cop routine. Though they weren't sure yet who was playing which role and Harry had no intention of making it easy for them.

"I believe the Ministry had an inquiry, Auror?"

"Yes. How was it that you found the missing students?"

Harry slowly smiled, never removing wary eyes from his interrogators.

"You have heard rumors of me I imagine. A few weeks ago one of my messengers was intercepted by Aurors. 'A dangerous magical entity' I believe you called it. I merely used the messenger to track young Montague."

Harry figured they didn't need to know about anything illegal.

Snape scowled on the less than informative statement. They had learned little that they already didn't know.

"Ah yes…your 'messenger'. I've heard such strange tales, might I be so bold as to observe one?" asked Dumbledore with a scholarly twinkle in his eye.

"If you manage to find one observe all you like." Was his noncommitted reply. Dumbledore's smile fell a little and his eyes turned more calculating.

"How was it that you managed to extricate the students from Death Eater control?" Moody continued.

"Voldemort was not as prepared as he has been in years previous. His wards were not enough to prevent me from entering."

"Then why was it impossible for both professors and Aurors alike to track them if it was so easy?" spat Snape.

The man really had to work on his people-skills.

Harry merely smirked at the Death Eater.

"I don't know, why was it?" If Snape knew he was Harry Potter he would be serving detention for the rest of his natural life. The man merely flushed a brick red and kept his mouth tightly shut after a heavy look from Dumbledore.

"Did you know the location of the holding place?" persisted Moody.

"Sigismund Castle in the Orkney Islands."

"Did you encounter any resistance?"

"One sleeping guard and two robed figures on the Castle courtyard."

Dumbledore interrupted their questioning session.

"Why did you rescue them?"

"Why shouldn't I have?" responded Harry.

The Headmaster just gave him twinkling blue eyes.

"These are dark times and too few people have the courage to stand against evil. The Wizarding world has hope when people such as yourself refuse to be ignorant of its troubles."

"Ignorance is a sin, my dear Headmaster. I knew what I was doing when I set out tonight."

The coot beamed at him.

"Have you ever considered a career with the Aurors? The Ministry could use men like yourself."

"The Ministry is staffed by idiots. If I wanted to follow an idiot I would rather kiss the Dark Lord's hem."

Dumbledore just smiled at him. His distain for the Ministry was clear enough, though that had already been a heavy suspicion beforehand. His distaste for Voldemort was now apparent, something that all three observing wizards were very grateful for.

The Light would suffer heavily if two Founder Heirs united against the Wizarding world.

"There are more clandestine groups out there that could aid you greatly." Dumbledore offered gently.

Harry looked at him amused.

"Are you suggesting I become a vigilante?"

Dumbledore offered him another smile though now it seemed a bit more strained. Lord Morrigan was clearly not falling into an awed stupor before Dumbledore nor was he outright sprouting insults to the Headmaster. Admittedly these were the only two reactions the Headmaster ever seemed to get.

"I am merely observing how in these troubled times, resources are stretched too thinly. It sometimes becomes necessary for one to learn how to protect one-self."

While it was amusing watching the Headmaster weave words and hint about the Order of the Phoenix, Harry was done playing with them.

"I just retrieved four students from a Death Eater lair and earned myself the attention of Voldemort. Self-defense is something I am adept at, I'd be a fool not to be."

Leaning back Harry stared calmly at the Headmaster's eyes, letting his power surface so they might see it shinning brightly in his eyes.

"It might interest you to know I am muggle-raised though my blood is certainly pure enough. I've studied Muggle governments and compared them to ours. You know what I deduced? It's amazing that coup's don't rise more often in our society. We're so horribly blind it's a wonder we don't cause our own destruction. When I infiltrated Sigismund Castle modern wards were easily reduced to _nothing_. The only trouble I had was with half-decrepit wards that are illegal now a days."

"Magic is regulated to protect our society from destruction. Magic is a strange and beautiful thing that has often been twisted for destructive purposes." The Headmaster said lightly reprimanding.

Harry scowled heavily before snorting in bitter amusement.

"You think we are creatures of magic? We are mere humans gifted with magic. True magic creatures are shoved into a dark corner like a poor relation. Ruled by fear you hide from a world while you claim it as your own. Did you know werewolves can call on foreign powers the night of the full moon? It is the blessing given to the cursed. The blessing can pacify the beast but wizards never bothered to explore that. Did you know goblins magic is that of time itself? They are keepers of powers ignored for their very power is trapped within time. Did you know vampires though not natural wizards are creatures created through blood magic, the most powerful and dangerous magic of all. But being born of blood their very existence is prohibited by the Ministry?

"We are so obsessed with out inclinations and our magic it's easy to forget we are mere humans who are never Light and never Dark, just strange sorts of Grey. Even you my dear Headmaster, icon of the Light have blood on your hands. Can you truly claim the Light? And your servant wears the mantle of the foulest Dark though he seeks guidance in the Light. Is one better than the other?"

"I know who you are Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix. After all ignorance is a deadly mistake so let me clear something for you. I am not interested in your cause. I'm my opinion you fight for the wrong ideals."

"Would you have us fight for the Dark?"

Harry merely rolled his eyes. He supposed with age one could acquire selective hearing. Moody at least seemed interested in his ramblings. Snape just alternated from pale white to brick red while glaring at the disrespectful young man.

"I would have you fight for magic. If Voldemort weren't so bend on creating a bloody tyranny I wouldn't care a wit if the Ministry would collapse. If you weren't so set on preserving the status quo I would give a damm if someone stabbed Voldemort though his black heart. You've lead the wizarding world for many years Dumbledore and you've done precious little to cure its sickness."

"Do you propose to lead it yourself?" sneered Snape.

"I'm certainly not going to ensure its continuation. Do not look at me to become a soldier in your squabble about Dark and Light. Frankly both of you have worthy ideals but you are all too great of arses to protect magic from the self-defeating purpose you are both set on. In the end you only destroy what you wished to protect when another wizard or creature dies.

"You could stand back and let death run unchecked?" said Dumbledore sadly as if Harry would realize the error of his ways.

"I would make sure dying for it is worth it. As far as I can tell it isn't. Your time is up gentlemen. I have no wish to continue this conversation."

"I have one final question for you. Mr. Potter has disappeared from the school grounds and it would seem his disappearance is related to you. Where might he be?"

Harry raised a brow , clearly surprised.

"I make it no secret. We have been in contact for a while. I cannot be reached easily so Mr. Potter left Hogwarts to sent a message to me about the missing students." Now this was just blatant lying but Harry never batted an eye.

"How strange, Mr. Potter has never mentioned being acquainted with you."

"You'd be surprised at what Mr. Potter fails to mention. We are allies, do not make the mistake of thinking I am in any way associated with you. You are merely his Headmaster, remember that."

"Potter's arrogance grew to new heights, this certainly explains why." Snape muttered snidely.

Harry stood up and sneered at the Potion Master. A second later his glamoured-wand twirled in his hand. He'd love to hex the greasy git but unfortunately that would mean plastering his magical signature all over the 'body'.

"I believe I said this conversation was over."

"Where might the Ministry be able to contact you if further questions arise?" said Dumbledore in one last shot. He didn't know it now but in a couple of hours when the events of the night became clear he would realize exactly how powerful an ally Morrigan could be. It was never wise to lose track of such people.

Harry pointedly ignored Dumbledore while he started directly into Moody's eyes, however disconcerting _that_ was.

"My solicitor can relay inquiries. However I do not appreciate being pestered so there should be very little anyone should need my thoughts on. I employ Gibbens&Gibbens for that purpose. Should I find anyone employed for me being unduly questioned I will be very displeased. Good night."

Harry left with only a slight tilt of his head.

He'd laid out his demands very clearly, not that he expected Dumbledore not to eventually give in to his curiosity. He would just have to learn the hard-way Morrigan would not replace Harry Potter as his trapped tool. Frankly he'd rather have neither of his identities in Dumbledore's remote vicinity.

The only reason Harry had won this war of words with Dumbledore was because the Headmaster knew little of Donovan Morrigan's stance in current events.

He slipped through the waiting room unnoticed intent on the front door.

Only to be bowled over as a small army of Ministry personnel pushed their way into St. Mungo. At the very fore front was Fudge himself looking incredibly important if he did say so himself.

Harry stared at them dumbly for a moment. Tonight was not his night.

"Watch were you're going. Cant you tell the Minister is walking here." Scolded a young man that scurried soon enough after his retreating idol.

They walked quickly to the front desk, never sparing a look behind them.

Harry watched them incredulously before dissolving in laughter. Still laughing he walked out the door earning a strange look or too. Dispelling the three tracking charms on him, one from each wizard, Harry apparated to the edge of Hogwarts wards.

**I**t was true his House was used to his disappearing acts. But even they weren't about to ignore his absence while being confined in such close space.

By dinner, McGonagall had been informed. Her lips had tightened disapprovingly before she went to consult the Headmaster.

They'd feared Harry's absence to be a plot of the Dark Lord's making. After interrogating his roommates they'd learned Harry had left of his own will. One or two Order Member conducting the search muttered quietly to themselves after they heard the news. Potter would end up finding the students long before any of them.

It should worry them that they were right.

Muttering the password to a disgruntled Fat Lady, Harry retreated into the seventh year's dorms.

Tomorrow he would be once again interrogated but this time Harry Potter would be called up for the act.

The boys were asleep in their beds. Ron twisted restlessly in his, his mind no doubt plagued by dreams.

Kneeling at his friend's bedside Harry shook the slumbering boy awake.

"Har…ry?...Wha...? ...Gin...ny?" slurred the half-awake boy looking at Harry through red-eyes.

"It's only me Ron. Ginny's been found. She's at St. Mungo's right now."

Ron bolted awake.

"Truly? Is she all right? Can I go see her?" Ron began frantically.

"Shush….I don't know how she is and I don't think you can see her tonight. I just wanted you to know. Now go back to sleep."

"But Harry!" Ron whispered loudly. "I can't….It be impossible to sleep now."

Harry smiled lightly.

"No it wont."

**: Sleep Ron: **he hissed imbedding magic in his voice. Ron was out like a light. Sighing softly Harry pulled up the covers and tucked in his friend before turning to prepare himself for bed.

He didn't have trouble sleeping.

It had been an exhausting day after all.

TBC…..

Jarvis- conqueror (Old English)

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**AN: This could almost be seen as the second half of chapter 14. But to be honest I just wanted to see how writing a cliff-hanger would feel. Thank you for being my unwilling test subjects! No animals were harmed in the testing. **

**I'm sleepy and I just want to post this. Does that make me sound whinny? How insecure of me to even ask that. **

**Seriously I'll be all moody if no one reviews. It is your duty as a human being! I've worked out most of the story out in my head so I know how it ends and I'm feeling incredibly smug because no one else knows. (_laughs madly_)**

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	16. Eye for an Eye

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

**Eye for an Eye**

**A**n eye for an eye.

That was one lesson that he had learned all on his own. A cruel justice, payment demanded for that taken.

But then why did everyone always ask for more than they gave?

The Dursleys asked for servitude, Dumbledore asked for faith, the wizarding public asked for another miracle, Voldemort…well, only he knew what he asked of Harry.

But why didn't return what they took from him? Did they honestly think he was a little bird to be caged, brought out only during the final battle to perform another miracle?

How could they? Ask so much from him when he had never wanted anything more than anonymity.

It wasn't fair. It had never been fair. It probably never would be either.

**W**hile he was no stranger to keeping odd hours last nights magical exertion had tired him out. Normally he wouldn't have woken till noon. His plans were ruined when Ron pounced on him, jarring him into a little realm known as reality.

Harry was as grateful as the next guy for Ron's good news. That didn't mean he didn't glare disgruntledy at Ron as he tried to burrow into the warm covers.

"Ron…." Harry whined.

"Harry! What happened to Ginny last night? Is she hurt?" Ron's hands fluttered as the seventh year coherently convey his thoughts.

Harry blinked sleepily.

"Ron….I don't know anything. She's at St. Mungos. Go assault a professor and have them release you to your family."

Ron scrambled and did just that.

Harry sighed and dug into his pillow. The dorm was blessedly empty and if not for the bright sunlight streaming in it would have been perfect.

"Mate?" Seamus called out from the doorway. "McGonagall is looking for you."

"Thanks. I'll see you in the Great Hall if I ever manage to get up."

"Don't take too long or else they'll wrangle up another search party."

Harry cursed softly in parseltoungue. Rather than be discomforted Seamus merely laughed as he left for breakfast.

He lingered as long as possible. Dumbledore would not wait that long for Harry but it wouldn't stop him from prolonging the meeting as much as possible.

No healthy boy needed lemon drops this early in the morning.

"**M**r. Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you. His password is Fiddle Fizz Fudge." The Deputy Headmistress said sternly, but then again everything she said always managed to sound as if she was scolding someone.

Harry nodded his understanding. He'd only stepped into the Great Hall and the professor had immediacy pounced on him (not literally, there were some problems even he did not need).

He managed to pilfer an apple from the Huffelpuff table before he went in search for the Headmaster. No doubt he could have stayed for some breakfast but he figured he would let the curiosity of last nights excursion fade. At least it was Sunday and many students had opted to do the reasonable thing and sleep in.

The office was blessedly empty.

The Headmasters of old peered at him curiously. Being permanent residents of this office they knew much of Hogwarts business and of course they knew the goings on of the last hours.

Harry glared at the few that tried to strike up a conversation. Finally he settled on a staring contest with a coot that looked older than Dumbledore and bore a strange resemblance to the Potter Family. Only their hair could defy gravity in such a manner.

"Gilroy Longbottom. I believe his mother was a Potter." The portrait glared at the speaker before settling in his painted stuffed chair never breaking his continuous bad mood.

Harry turned around slowly and watched the Headmaster take a seat behind his desk. He briefly noted with an odd sense of pride that they were a lot less silvery instruments. He had never apologized for the destruction of the office two years ago. Frankly it was the least the Headmaster should have expected after such an awful day and end to an even worse year.

"Good morning Headmaster." Harry said politely.

"And what a wonderful morning it is my boy. After yesterdays confusion today seems anticlimactic. Of course plenty of questions were raised last night, many of which I find only you can answer Harry."

Harry merely remained silent. He was not a scared little first year that would blab every bad deed when those reprimanding blue eyes gazed down at him.

The silence stretched on and aquamarine eyes only darkened in disappointment.

With a start Harry noticed how tired Dumbledore looked. He figured the old man had yet to sleep, not if he checked over Ginny's condition and went through an interrogation of his own once the Minister found out Lord Morrigan had been there.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to quell rising guilt. He might have been the disruption to the elderly man's sleeping habits but it wasn't truly his fault.

"Did you leave school grounds Harry?"

He shifted uncomfortably. People who've never met Dumbledore could laugh about the feeling the man radiated. Harry, however, knew better. Dumbledore had an aura of wisdom and calmness. If he was a muggle he would have made the best psychologist ever, that or a priest.

"Yes. No one here was having any luck in finding the students. Morrigan could."

"Harry, I would prefer you not involve yourself in matters best left to trained professionals."

Harry stared incredulously.

"How can I not involve myself? Four students were taken; Ginny Weasley was taken."

"Your intentions were noble but you placed both yourself and the students in danger when you went in search of Morrigan. Little is known of him and sources say he has been in contact with known Death Eaters. We know little enough as it is of him, it is foolish to trust him when many would readily hand you over to Voldemort."

"Good thing I know a little more about him than you to." Harry snorted.

"Care to relate some of your shared history? It is troubling to know such a suspicious character has assess to school grounds were children reside."

Harry frowned. It wasn't like that, Morrigan (or rather he) wasn't like that. Harry felt his famous temper loosening.

"It isn't like that!"

"How is it then?" Dumbledore questioned kindly for all the world looking like nothing more than an eccentric grandfather.

"Morrigan isn't Dark and isn't Light."

"He has become a notorious figure as of late. How can you be sure he will not harm you?" Dumbledore sighed, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the light. "I only want what is best for you."

Harry's cheeks flushed lightly, from guilt or indignation he didn't know.

"I know he will not harm me. The House of Potter and Black stand side by side with Morrigan."

"My dear boy I fear you venture into places that will only cause you grief. Wizarding politics is not something you should handle so carelessly."

"I don't! I know what I am doing."

"Then what do you know of Morrigan that can convince you of his intentions?"

"He saved the students!"

"When many trained professionals could not. Alastor Moody has already reported the absurd ease Mr. Morrigan had when rescuing the students. It raises questions on the ease of the whole business. It seems very convenient for the students to be returned after missing less than a day."

"He helped you and all you can do is suspect him. If he isn't a friend at least he certainly isn't an enemy. Voldemort doesn't take kindly when he is thwarted."

"Voldemort is a clever man, even if Mr. Morrigan doesn't intent to betray you by freely associating with him Voldemort can use him to lure you from the protections Hogwarts offers."

"I trust Morrigan." Harry offered coolly.

"I know dear boy. Trust is a beautiful and deadly thing. I care too much for you to see you hurt when I could have stopped it. We know nothing of Morrigan and I cannot help but distrust his intentions toward you."

Harry opened his mouth to explain; upset somehow knowing that Dumbledore would think to believe Morrigan evil.

And promptly clicked his mouth shut once more.

This wasn't like him. Since when did he voluntarily give away sensitive information?

Harry looked at Dumbledore balefully. Something was wrong. With rising dread he realized something was wrong with him. Reviewing the conversation he realized the conversation had ventured into areas he did not wish to discuss.

Since when was he reduced to nothing more than a defensive fifth year? For he certainly wasn't acting any different.

Since when did feel the need correct Dumbledore's opinions? The man hadn't changed in the last decade and wasn't likely to change in the next.

Startled at a sudden though Harry stared at Dumbledore with rising horror.

"_You bastard_." His whisper echoed in the suddenly quiet room.

**O**cclumency and Legimancy are very useful and wildly distrusted arts. Occlumency not so much as Legimancy. It was relatively fine when you protected your own head, but who wanted someone with the power to scavenge though another?

After the disastrous fifth year Occlumency training seemed to always be put off for the next month. Of the people with regular contact to Harry only Dumbledore and Snape were knowledgeable in the art. Dumbledore was far too valuable to open his mind in such a manner and Snape entered a very long period in which Voldemort delighted in requesting absurdly difficult potions. Needless to say more than one potions students was scared for life.

As the war efforts became more intense Dumbledore always seemed to forget to find a proper instructor for the boy wonder. On reflection, Harry assumed that law-wizards who were adequately skilled would provide too much of a tempting source of information for the naïve Gryffindor.

Not that it made a difference.

Voldemort took the initiative in protecting his current plans when he tampered with the connection and began feeding Harry memories of pain, triumph, and most importantly knowledge.

Voldemort reached a skill few could surpass. But above all else, was finally the knowledge of what the hell Snape meant when he said 'clear your mind'.

It wasn't simply a matter of clearing your mind, memories could not be shoved off into a corner and end the matter. When memories were not dealt with, analyzed, and ordered into the psyche they had a habit of springing up in the most inopportune of moments.

Not surprisingly Occlumency and Legimancy were viewed with open distrust by the Ministry. The Art was only still legal because of the obvious benefits it offered certain people who needed to keep things confidential. That still didn't stop the Ministry from banning most books on the subject.

Harry had found new levels of frustration when such books had eluded him for months. It didn't seem wise to just rely on Voldemort's memories. For all his omnipotent delusions the man was still human or was at one time anyway.

He finally found a book on the subject that raised more questions than it answered. But it did point out a crucial point in occlumency. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, dream of the masses, walked into a Muggle bookstore and bought a book on meditation. Harry laughed so hard when he bought the book he scared the cashier into another job.

He had achieved a lot simply by experiencing Voldemort's practical lessons but it was still helpful to acquire a theoretical guide. Funnily enough young Tom Riddle was brilliant at practical aspects of magic but he always stumbled slightly in theory.

Of course Riddle had actually managed to procure a decent Occlumency text.

Slythetin's library might have contained such a text but if it was there it was off in the section Harry commonly referred to 'Not in this lifetime'. The section was composed of a wide selection of books, most written in some inane obscure language.

Why couldn't Slytherin have been a less paranoid wizard and only collected either English or Parseltongue text?

Harry had noticed that magic made a person blind to the Muggle world. Even muggle-born fell out of synch with Muggle advances. However tolerant Light wizards were said to be Harry had found most didn't know a theater from a cell phone. So of course the Ministry would fail to realize that a forbidden text had a readably assessable counterpart in the Muggle world. It was absurd, hilarious, and simply idiotic.

Typical.

For over a year Harry's mental defenses had grown as layers upon layers of defenses steadily built. But of course their were inherit problems in Harry's method of learning. He had no one to advise him on his mistakes. Dammed if he was going to go ask Snape for help there.

So if he succeeded in guarding his mind but failed to realize his emotions could just as easily be played with there was no one to correct him.

The emotions of a teenager were not a thing to tamper with, especially when said teenager was Harry Potter, and especially when said teenager caught you.

**T**he 'emotional' imbalance felt much like the result of some odd experiment with prescription drugs. His instincts were telling him to do one thing and his more rational mind was warning against it.

Wide-eyed he stared at Dumbledore incomprehensibly.

Dimly he noted how Voldemort liked more direct mental attacks while Dumbledore preferred inclining the emotional mind-set toward his goal.

"You utter bastard." Harry repeated. His mind was rising from the daze it had fallen in and his temper wasn't about to be left behind.

"Language Harry." Chided the Headmaster.

Harry began speaking in a monotone.

"In fifth year I didn't know what was happening to me. When I learned Voldemort had been tampering with my mind at the same time Snape freely browsed through my memories I was very disturbed. So I tried to learn Occlumency on my own. And for the most part I did. The nature of my connection to Voldemort can never be completely shut off but I learned to protect my mind from him. It gives me nightmares sometimes knowing how easily I can become an object of possession, losing the freedom I have fought for. I dream of Voldemort and Snape taking my mind, must I dream of you too?" Harry finished sadly.

Dumbledore's face suddenly looked old. In some part of his mind Harry recognized that Dumbledore needed to know as much about Morrigan as he could and if said knowledge resided in the mind of a temperamental teenager he would do all he could to acquire it. Even if it meant forcefully inducing said teenager to a more receptive position.

"Occlumency is a dark art Harry. It concerns me you have been practicing the art in secret."

Harry stared at Dumbledore impassively. For anyone looking he seemed unconcerned. Of course the spidery hairline cracks that were winding around every available surface gave suspicion to the observation.

Magic and fire became pungent in the air. The desk between them lit darkly as spidery webs of thin black flame raced in dizzying patterns. The Black Flame, a legacy of the Black Family. It was a blood-based power most of the Black line inherited; its origins were a closely guarded secret. It was part of the legacy Sirius gifted Harry when he took the infant as his blood-son, conducting a ritual only Lily ever knew about.

**A**s of yet most people still believed Sirius merely named Harry his Heir. A few, mainly his solicitor and goblin-consultant, had already realized Sirius bound Harry closer to his Family than apparent.

Harry might have looked like his father as a child but few ever remembered the dark chocolate hair that was James claim versus the inky black hair more similar to Sirius Black. There were faint traces on his face of the Black Family but it was mostly buried under his birth-parents likeness.

Blood-gifts were probably the only thing that marked pureblood superiority over muggleborn.

**D**umbledore stared at the Black Flame in open surprise. This was something unexpected.

He might have been disturbed by the power the child of two powerful wizards would inherit and further troubled when the child's power was augmented by one of the most powerful wizards. He was past uneasy when the child had also been effectively made the blood-son of another strong wizard.

Blood was never to be used lightly. One of the reasons most forms of blood-magic were outlawed.

It didn't help that the child had been so heavily touched by dark influences. He above all knew the danger the Dark offered. Had not he watched for years as young Tom Riddle fulfilled the bloody legacy of his ancestors? Riddle had been a clever child much like Harry but both had little reason as it was to refute the Darkness. Both reared in the same manner because of a mistake of his. A mistake he began to fear he might be repeating in full.

"Sirius made me his son in more than name. He thought my father would not understand the foreshadowing fear he felt so only my mother was ever aware of his actions."

The information had come by hard-won after an endless inventory of the Potter vault. Lily Evans Potter feared taking such a secret to her grave so she left an account of the ritual in the vault. During such dark times it was all too easy to destroy families. She already felt the end of her life approaching, a gift from some long forgotten Seer that had mingled in the Morrigan line Harry later found out. Coupled with Sirius own fears and his reluctance to confide this secret in his already weary best-friend it was only logical to record the events in paper till such a time their son might learn of his heritage.

"What was it that you said in first second year? It was our choices that define us. I choose to deal with this war in one way and you choose to tread where you do not belong."

"I must ask your forgiveness. I have overstepped my boundaries but I only fear you are making a grave mistake in trusting Morrigan."

"Morrigan is the only one not playing mind games with me. Through him I actually know of things everyone seems to feel I shouldn't know." Harry retorted hotly before taking a deep breath to try and regain a semblance of calm.

It wasn't alright.

How could Harry not feel violated by an uninvited intrusion in his mind? He already walked a fine line by conversing with the Dark Lord in neutral ground where their minds met. Dumbledore had thought to bypass common courtesies and play Harry like clay, destroying his inhibitions to keep knowledge secret.

It was almost worse than possession. At least when he was possessed he knew his actions were being controlled by someone else.

Dumbledore had no right.

Long-fingered hands curled tightly and his jaw tightened as he tried to contain the rising betrayal. This was the first parental figure he had ever trusted; Merlin knows Vernon and Petunia didn't deserve that courtesy. This was the person who always was his guide in the magical world when he was younger. He might not trust him anymore but he still respected him. How could he violate him in such a way?

His stared at the ground unseeingly, long inky locks obscuring his face from scrutiny. Slowly his face rose to look at Dumbledore.

"If you play with fire you will get burned." He hissed, emerald eyes bright with power. There was no twinkle in his eyes, rather they burned and stormed in an unforgiving turmoil.

The Black Flame in the room flared, spinning to dance dangerously close to some headmasters. Phineas Nigellus stared in recognition and fascination as his great-great-grandson's godson proceeded to destroy the Headmasters office.

Again.

"You always say you are sorry but you never stop to think when you transgress again."

"I can only beg your forgiveness. I was only doing what I thought best, for the good of all of us."

Harry smiled bitterly.

"You and your damm logic and your terrible faults and your blind prejudice! You thought to play God and God punished the world for it. You thought to play the world as a pawn and the world spat back at your face. You thought to love me and you nearly ruined me.You sit on your white throne all decked in the holy Light and fight for your damm ideals. You save a fish from the sea and drown a world in its tears."

"You made a mistake with Riddle; you pushed when you should have helped. You continue to make the same mistake in me. I might share disturbing similarities with Riddle but I am not him. If I keep information from you know that it is for a good reason. Humans aren't omnipotent and I fail to see why you should even think to try. Morrigan is the ally of my Family. I never asked to be part of this war and I won't be pushed to where I don't want to."

"I am terribly sorry it has come to this." Dumbledore said mournfully. Through Harry's anger he felt a coil of uneasiness bloom at the ominous words.

"_Obliviate!_"

"**H**arry your infractions cannot go unpunished. Fortunately for you suspension as would be the course of action when a student leaves school grounds is not a viable option. You will receive a month detention and 70 points from your House. I hope if you ever feel the need to intervene in such matters you will find either me or a professor to confide in. Only through working together can we hope to survive in these dark times.

Harry nodded his eyes curiously foggy.

"I understand Headmaster."

"Very well then. I will let you enjoy the rest of your weekend, tomorrow you will report to Professor McGonagall to serve your detention after dinner."

Harry stood slowly.

"If that is all?"

"Yes of course my boy. Remember that my door is always open if you should have any concerns."

"Thank you Headmaster, I'll keep that in mind."

Harry calmly walked out, his steps echoing along the spiral staircase. The gargoyle merely grunted as it sprang back into place.

Calmly he initiated his routine check for any unknown spells on his person. Curiously enough he had two; one appeared to be from a student while the other was most definitely a more powerful adult created. It seemed people were becoming curious about Harry.

Leisurely he strolled into Gryffindor Tower, nodding to the few curious eyes that were in the Common Room. Gracefully he walked toward his room. He canceled the student tracking spell and gently transferred the more complex tracking spell on Trevor, Neville's toad. The toad merely twitched slightly in his sleep before the spell settled comfortably.

Just as calmly he left the Tower and proceeded to weave through various secret passageways till he was finally in front of the third floor girls' restroom.

In the Chamber of Secrets he carefully retried one of his less valuable daggers. For a moment he stared at the cold steel.

Spinning he flung the dagger into a wall

"_YOU BASTARD!"_

The dagger quivered from where it was embedded in the stone masonry.

**S**

TBC…..

**AN: So…how do you like me now?**

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**_Adoption? (Confused? Here is the guide to everything you need to know)_**

_**Adoption:**_

_**1.Legal: Merely the legal child with no magical inheritance save the name of the guardian.**_

_**2.Magical: Initiating a deeper bond with the child by bonding the guardian and child's magic during the formative years. This option though rarely enacted most commonly used by godparents with sole custody of infants.**_

**_3.Blood: Utilizing a ritual the child is effectively made the guardian's child in name, magic, and blood. Proven to fail on occasion the ritual is most effective when the child is still a newborn. Ritual is most commonly used by Heirless families who wish to preserve the blood-gifts as well as magical power of the Family._**

_**Initially Harry believed himself to be the magical son of Sirius. It was only through the records kept by his mother that he learned of the secret Sirius and his mother took to their respective graves.**_

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	17. End of an Age

**End of an Age**

**I**f life was meant to be lived why did so many spent it waiting. Waiting for love, waiting for luck, waiting for peace. Always waiting, always for that other moment, that other intangible second.

**H**arry had been a child when first he learned about the masks people wore. He had lost his idealistic views promptly under the care of his relatives. Later he learned it disturbed people when they realized he looked at them through jaded eyes. Apparently the sanctity of childhood was held dear by the masses. Harry supposed that was the

Dursleys only major deviant from "normalcy". That and their wizard nephew.

Stupidly he had hoped wizards were different and to an extend he had placed trust in his magical saviors. After all, anyone that disturbed the Dursleys as much couldn't be all bad. He eventually came to accept the fact wizards were as human as muggles and even they wore faces that hid true selves. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when Albus Dumbledore revealed the cracks in his mask. But even he didn't see the extend Dumbledore's mask concealed.

He was seeing all too clearly now.

On one hand he couldn't exactly blame Dumbledore. Even he would be hard pressed not to sacrifice one life in exchange for peace. Harry just couldn't reconcile the fact it was his life that would be sacrificed.

Sometimes, many times actually, Harry would wonder what path he walked upon. If Dumbledore was meant to be the Light why did Harry remain silent when first he began discovering the powers that Voldemort should fear. If Dumbledore was the Light why did he offer a child's life as sacrifice?

Was Harry betrayed or the betrayer?

Who condemned who? They were all guilty really. If Harry was a proper Savior he would have given his life to the Order; told them all his secrets so they may use him as a weapon and finally bring peace one way or another. If Harry had never pushed back the events of his childhood he would have been a Darkness prophesized equal to Voldemort's. But everyone had condemned him to be something he wasn't sure he wanted to be. Voldemort marked him a child of Light by facing against him as Dark. Dumbledore's oversights often left him standing alone with Dark. There was only so much Light that could shine in a sea of Dark; eventually all Light dimmed without fuel. There had always been so little reason, so little fuel to keep his stance in the Light unwavering.

Was Dumbledore so willing to hold the tremulous relationship with Harry that he would resort to trickery? Or was the old man simply unable to let the persona of righteous Light wizard fade in the eyes of his most volatile pawn?

Harry didn't know. What he did know was that something had changed forevermore the second Dumbledore raised his wand against Harry.

But he was digressing.

It was more than a little odd and all too frightening when the Memory Charm had failed. This was one of the strongest wizards around. He had been a practitioner of magic for over a century. Spells like _Obliviate_ simply did not fail when someone of his caliber cast them. At least they didn't fail naturally which let Harry to believe some freakishly odd reason was the perpetuator.

Harry just knew this was going to give him a headache. For now nothing in his books had revealed _Obliviate_ failing for a plausible reason. It certainly wasn't the first time Dumbledore cast that spell so something else was at fault.

He could already feel the headache building. And he couldn't exactly ask anyone for help at Hogwarts. Too many questions would be raised and too few would even try to believe him.

Bugger.

**S**

**T**heodore Hedrick Nott had been born into a life weaved in tradition and power. His ancestors were among the First Families on both sides and his line had remained unbroken for nearly as long. They were a family steeped in Darkness who prayed to the Dark deities and understood the power of blood.

They were proven survivors having outlived seven different Dark Lords, three Light Lords, and countless wars. They understood power called to all and they were not blind to the call.

Harry James Potter was a siren in a cacophony of noise.

Like all old purebloods Theodore's line had cultivated certain tendencies. Besides breeding someone of questionable sanity every generation many of Nott blood could see Auras among their other gifts of telekinesis and the rarer shadow gifts from a banshee ancestor.

In first year he had felt the power the Boy-Who-Lived wielded. Surprisingly below average but nothing unusual except for the large amount of seals on him. But slowly Potter's power expanded as what looked to be self-imposed seals within him loosened. At the end of fourth year many of those seals shattered and even more broke during sixth. Even in seventh some seals would break as Potter learned of the power by right of blood he should wield. Potter was unusual in that though Theodore could read his power he couldn't see his gifts, a hard thing to accomplish for someone as strong an Aura-reader as him.

This was the person with the power to change the tide of the war.

Theodore Hedrick Nott named for his father was anything but. The elder Nott Sr. had given his life to the Dark Lord and in doing so spent the last years of his life on his knees before a madman. When the elder Nott fist joined the Dark Lord in all likelihood victory should have been there's and would have been had there never been a Boy-Who-Lived. But it was simpler back then, war had risen so fast there had been no great divisions among the wizards themselves except for Light and Dark. War united those against Voldemort and as war raged crimes committed for those causes were cemented in memory. For more than a dozen years wounds had festered and now as another war raged factions upon factions were forming. Lord Morrigan was not the only man spearing a faction although he certainly was proving to be more successful.

Theodore was heir to his family name and upon his seventeenth birthday he would be a full-fledged Lord. Voldemort wanted a Nott by his side again, Dumbledore was seeking another Slytherin to deck his office as a proven reform case, and even Fudge would be pressuring him to endorse his campaign much like his father once did. All three wanted to mold him and he wasn't about let them control him.

War was a horrible thing; it was violent, blind, and destructive and eventually war marked a person. Those that lived would always have the shadow of darker times, lingering thoughts of could-have-been's and never-would-be's. There had been plenty of people touched heavily by the first war, even now St. Mungo housed wandering souls with broken eyes as they were stuck forevermore in a cruel time. If you weren't careful war destroyed you.

Theodore feared the destruction war would cause his soul. He was as cunning as the next Slytherin but that is where the similarities between him and the late Nott ended. His father had been the type to relish in blood and pain, something that had always unsettled his son. He would destroy himself if he followed his father's path. The Dark Lord would destroy him if he insulted Him by aligning with the coot Dumbledore and everyone else was out to destroy Fudge.

He held no silly idealistic notions over this war. Survival was primary but he would not settle for a tainted existence. Never would he settle for life on his knees. That is precisely the attitude that killed his father.

Maybe his mother was right and he really was disturbingly similar to the Gryffindor great-great uncle of his. His Slytherin mind would rather not draw comparisons. It made him uncomfortable to do so.

**S**

**O**llivander was a wand-maker of renowned caliber. His family had honed the craft till they had developed a perfect balance between the stabilizer wood and the magical core. Unfortunately he was also completely legal if not already in someone's pocket. Harry suspected Ollivander and Dumbledore had more than a business relationship. It was just bloody convenient no one thought to mention _Priori Incantatem _to him, a fact not even Ollivander thought to mention and Dumbledore who had nothing to do with wands readily provided.

Discrete wand-makers were hard to find. It wasn't that the profession was scarce. Less than honest wand makers were constantly being hunted down by the presiding government and therefore they mostly worked only with a word-of-mouth recommendation. Even Amos had trouble finding one and the man had his fingers in more shady dealings than a troop of Slytherin's will ever hope to see in their lifetime.

He wasn't Elder Caliga for nothing.

Giovanni Verti was a shop owner who specialized in odds-and-ends. No one could precisely say what Verti sold and even less knew what profession one eccentric uncle had taught him. For more than a decade Verti had sold illegal and legal wands to a elite clientele. Getting an appointment with that man was harder than getting Harry and Snape to be civil to each other. But all things are possible when you had a millennia old vampire on your side.

_Le rue de la reine blanc_. Fifty miles southeast of Nice, France in the French Wizarding district was a row of quaint shops much like Diagon Alley. Verti had settled in France after things got a little too personal in his native Italy. At least that's what Amos said who had managed to get the information from one of his vampire-turned children.

The shop was cool and dark, it smelled faintly of damp manuscripts and sharp incense. Verti was what most would call a dark man though his coloring was pale. He just had an aura that spoke of secrets and more secrets. But other than that Verti was a nice enough chap.

"Monsieur?" called out Verti from behind a workbench as he tinkered on what appeared to be a ballerina jewelry box.

"Parle-vouz anglais?"

"Oui…eh..yes, of course." The smile was gentile enough but it didn't completely conceal the suspicious eyes Verti directed at Harry.

"I was recommended your shop by a friend that said you could help me with a rather special item."

"I carry a great deal of things Monsieur."

"Yes but I think this item will have to be custom made."

Whatever friendly vestige Verti had sported disappeared instantly. Sharp eyes watched Harry warily. For all he knew Harry was the scouting agent for the French Aurors.

"Oh? Who recommended me to you?" Harry didn't miss Verti's wand arm disappearing under the folds of his rope.

"Elder Amos Caliga of the Clan Caliga, Sire of Beau Vautour"

"Mademoiselle Beau? How is her child doing?" Verti's expression never changed. Harry couldn't help but admire his mask. Truly Slytherin-worthy.

"She's no more a mademoiselle than I am. And I pity any child she should bear for Beau has sworn she would do motherhood right after she gives herself to the Hunters."

"There's a pretty prize on her neck in the Hunter circles."

"She should not have antagonized them to such an extend. Her sire has told her many a time the Hunters would ignore any clan vampire so long as they did not persist in breaking into their exalted Watchtower."

A ghost of a smile bloomed on Verti's pale face before sharp black eyes returned to the matter at hand. Up till then Harry had remained two meters in front of Verti in a relaxed stance that did not hide ready muscles.

"My workshop is outback." Pulling out a tattered quill he scribbled a quick note before handing it to Harry. "Memorize it then burn it."

Giovanni Verti's workshop is located at 56 Le rue de la reine blanc in the backroom. 

Holding the note over a candle burning on one of the many tables in the shop Harry concentrated on the words and as expected a door seemed to grow between a shelf holding countless suspicious looking jars and another holding rusted axes of all sizes.

"Clever." Harry murmured with appreciation. The Fidelus Charm was extremely useful but not easily cast. The average wizard could not take the strain of casting it on a closet much less a room. Though still a bastard Harry could not help but admire Dumbledore for casting the charm on Grimmald Place. His books had said the charm was more a matter of will than power. When casting the Fidelus Charm the wizard involved had to "spread" their will on the area to seal the place within the magic. It was also the main reason the charm was so obscure. Too many wizards faltered under the magic and the end result was a nasty backlash.

The backroom although a small area was impressive in the shear amount of things stacked in shelves against all four walls. In the middle there was another worktable with a large mortar.

"Custom wands are a little different than those you purchase on sight. For one the ingredients are more diverse. Custom wands usually hold two or more ingredients that serve to tune the wand more to your magic wavelength so to say. Look at the walls and pull down any jars or boxes that call to you."

Harry glanced uneasily at the walls. Some of the glass jars had things that looked suspiciously like eyes while others were as red as newly spilled blood. For that matter Harry wasn't all that sure it wasn't blood. Working with feathers, hairs, and heartstrings must be a lot less…icky.

Harry tried not to read the name tags. It wasn't pleasant confirming the fact that that really was a hippogriff heart's.

One jar called to him near the top with a coarse grey hair in the middle. As soon as he read the name memories began assaulting his mind.

_Cerberus Hair(age: 73)- _Three wide-eyed children who knew nothing of death. Wands and hearts guarding each other and the final forging of a friendship that would keep him sane in the years that would follow.

His hands moved under their own direction, knowing more than the wizard to whom they were attached to.

_-Unicorn Blood(Age:23_)- His innocence shadowed as a monster sought return to the world of flesh. A ruby stone he did not want and a turban wearing professor that could not touch him. The third to die in the battle between Harry and Voldemort.

_Basilisk poison(Age: approx. 400)_- A giant snake in the depths of the castle. A school ruled by fear as the events of the past were being repeated with dangerous results. The scapegoat is born.

_Phoenix Tears(Age:unkown)-_His champion. Pain and death before the stone eyes of Slytherin. A red phoenix battling the cold that spread from the bite on his arm. Death denied yet again.

_-Werewolf blood (Age:43 Name: Holix, exile of the Lycaen Clan) _Amber eyes, a protector and teacher. A calm against a school seeded with unease.

_-Dementor Skin- (Age:unknown_) Endless cold and sightless eyes. Frail shadowy death that traveled with deadly intent. His parents last moments immortalized and their screams forever trapped in the presence of the soul-eating creature.

_-Horntail Dragon (Age: 255_)- Flying and freedom intertwined. The foolish exhilaration of taunting a dragon and reckless joy of out flying its temperamental fit.

_-Wizards blood (Age:not available_)- A terrible night in a graveyard; the return of a man and the rebirth of a war. The binds of blood and magic that grew between the boy and the Dark Lord.

_-Grim claws(Age:51)_- The first Christmas he had ever celebrated with someone he could rightfully and willingly claim as family. Blue eyes that shone with love and the feeling that home existed somewhere.

_-Veritaserum( 1981)-_ Truth and lies intertwined, carved into his hands as false penance. Foe and friend alike played a dangerous game of half-truths and omissions. His name slandered, his mind questioned. Idols pushed from their frail pedestal.

_-Vampire Blood(Age:792 Name: Elder Ivren Fhrelx of Clan Thyluir_) Immortal gold eyes that saw the damage on a child's soul and pale hands that guided a boy from the Darkness he had fallen in.

_-Essence of ghosts(Age: 3 A.D)-_ Silent watches and intruding poltergeists. His minders and captors charged with the duty of keeping the Boy-Who-Lived a prisoner. Remnants of life suspended. Was it ever a wonder Harry blended in so well?

_-Augury Feathers (Age: approx. 80)_-Whispers and light, the lost and the other. Senseless words and odd feelings.

With every jar Harry pulled down the demented grin on Verti grew. It didn't bother Harry a whole lot. He hadn't exactly expected any friend of Beau Vautour to be all that in tune with reality.

Verti gave him an eerie grin.

"You are either deeply conflicted or schizophrenic."

"ehh…thanks."

"Cerberus is the Guardian, Unicorn is Purity, Basilisk is the Assassin, Phoenix is Rebirth, Werewolf can either be the Pack or the Moon, Dementor is the Soul and Nightmare, Dragon is Fire and Flight, Blood is Power, Veritaserum is Truth, the Grim is the Herald, Vampire is the Dark and the Immortal, Ghost is Sorrow, and Augury is the Seer and all of them are you one way or another. I caution you. Let only those things that called you reside in your wand. Too many volatile ingredients have called you. Only because you exist can they be combined."

Verti began the delicate process of stirring all the bloods. Harry preferred not to think about how all the ingredients came into his possession. Silently he offered his own blood as the _Wizards Blood_ needed.

"When this wand is finished only you will ever be able to touch it. Most wands contain a more general core that allows most of similar core to use the wand. The stronger the wand the fewer that can use the wand. The stronger the wizard the more wands of different cores they can use. This wand will hold too many variables for any one else to be compatible and safely use."

"What happens if someone does use it?"

"If this had been a less volatile wand I could safely say they would receive a nasty shock. Because this wand is so specific I would guess they would get a rather vicious backlash." Verti sounded entirely too pleased by the idea.

Harry grinned. He would like to see _Priori Incantatem_ now.

Picking a wood was easy enough. Losing tension he wasn't aware he had Harry bypassed yew. Surprisingly enough holly didn't call out to him.

It was ash that called him, pale grey with an odd red sheen to it.

"Igdrasil, the Ash-tree of existence or so say the Norse. Rooted in the kingdom of Death it reaches toward the heavens and spreads across the universe. At its root sit three Fates—the Past, Present, Future. From there flow two streams—that of the knowledge of things past and that of the knowledge of things to come. The Norse believed Man himself was formed from Igdrasil, the Sacred Tree." Was Verti's only comment.

Harry stared at the ash wood warily with a look that said it-had-better-not-be-Igdrasil-wood.

The finale product was beautiful—fourteen and a third ash wand coated in fire ruby dust for stability and the oddest core Verti had ever seen.

"Will you have the wand registered or not?" Harry glanced at him in surprise.

"France has more lenient registry laws than most countries. While most other places require you to register with the Ministry, France only stipulates the wand maker keep record."

"Why so lenient?"

"Only to the British it would seem. Most countries aren't as strict since magical signatures are rarely used—a violation of magical privacy. However Britain reserves the right to record magical signature and use it in its courts."

Harry had the inane urge to sing 'God save the Queen'. Luckily he suppressed it.

"What are the benefits of registering?"

"Mostly for legality's sake. You ever get caught its only one less charge that can be filed against you. Other than that records will be sealed here and since no one knows I'm a wand maker they can't track me down."

Did Verti assume everyone that saw him was up to mischief? It didn't help that he was probably right.

"Then what's the point?"

"Legality. An option should you ever need it."

Harry frowned at the man, this was certainly interesting.

"What happens if I enter British territories?"

Verti gave him a grin with too many teeth in it.

"The wand is considered a 'subject' of France since most wands have parts of creatures from the region they are made at. It's comes from some loophole in one of those Preservation Acts that were popular back in the 1900s."

"Keep the documents hidden. If all goes as planned I never want it to see the light of day much less moonlight."

"Oui Monsieur."

"You will have to sign a _notarius_ document."

Harry grimaced. Veritaserum on paper. How quaint. But as most things in life there existed a loophole.

The _notarius_ was simple enough. It gave the date, wood type, and core. Amusingly enough the core was simple marked down as Cerberus hair.

With a flourish he signed a name that was true enough and no amount of glamour spells could change the fact that under the magic he was still Harry James Potter.

_Lord Morrigan_

Verti never glanced down at the paper as he sealed it with a wax crest. It was as much protection as his services could offer. If he didn't know any names he couldn't be questioned about them if he was ever caught.

"Three hundred galleons" Harry didn't bat an eye at the prize. While his first wand had cost less than a dozen galleons, discretion did not come so cheaply. Dislodging a moneybag from his waist Harry handed it to Verti.

"I do not take betrayal kindly." For the first time Harry's voice frosted over and he sounded something other than a polite young man. Something that was powerful and unmerciful.

Verti hefted the bag in his hand. He easily recognized there was something closer to four hundred galleons in the purse.

"Keep my secrets and I shall keep yours. Never mention my profession or name to any and I shall do the same." Was his harsh reply.

Harry picked up the wand from the work table when it became apparent Verti was no longer willing to touch it. Immediately he felt the power; it sang in his veins and thundered with the beat of his heart. There were no showy flashes of light but all the same both men felt the power of the connection. Calmly Harry lowered his new wand to his side and ignored the slight trembling of his hand.

Both men nodded in understanding and silently they left the charmed room.

Outside the setting sun lit his wand with a pale red glow.

This wand was power-- wild and dangerous. Harry knew then that this wand had the ability to channel his power. It was ruthless and vengeful, comforting and protective. Harry knew this was what young Riddle must have felt when first he held the yew wand. He also felt the unsettling fear that one day Harry would not be able to turn the wand away from war. There had always been a lot of rage in him and only now did Verti explain certain woods inhibited certain things. Just as Yew amplified the Dark Arts, Holly had always belonged to the Light. Ash was neither and thus more dangerous than both could ever be. He was certain that if he had held the ash wand back in fifth year Bellatrix would not have escaped with what little sanity Azkaban had not taken.

It frightened him if he thought about it overlong.

It wasn't his dream to rule or conquer. But it was his fate to be hounded and he could not stop himself from lashing out. It was only a matter what unfortunate being would become the focus of his fury.

**S**

**N**o one had noticed his return to Hogwarts. Amusingly enough he hadn't even been missed. Of course that could do more with the fact that after nearly two weeks recuperating Ginny had finally returned.

Dumbledore had been sequestered at the Ministry all week long with Fudge and no other professor had the mind to track him. Dumbledore's tracking spell which he had grudgingly ignored for over two weeks had briefly had the privilege of recording the afternoon of Trevor the Toad.

The Tower was empty when Harry arrived. He wasn't in the mind to go make a spectacle of himself in the Great Hall so cheerfully he went in search of the kitchens. It was pleasant finally being able to eat undisturbed and listen to the little elves gossip. They were the reason Harry knew Dumbledore would not be returning till next Wednesday, nearly a week from now.

Apparently Fudge was fine tuning proposals that would go before the Wizengamot in two weeks.

Sometime Harry really loved those odd little elves.

**H**e returned to the Tower only to enter a Common Room filed with nearly every Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Apparently everyone wanted an account of Ginny's ordeal. He remained in the shadows listening in to her list of injuries. Most everything she would recover from with nothing more than scars Harry knew came from Avery's famous daggers.

It was Avery from the Inner Circle who Harry guessed had let the attack. It was also his misfortune to have picked such an unprotected location to stash his hostages. Voldemort did not tolerate failure well.

Judging by the cane propped next to Ginny Harry figured the girl had sustained heavy damage to her leg. It was confirmed a second later when Ginny excused herself from her friends only to walk with a limp.

Ron trailed behind her—obviously harassed many times by Ginny for hovering yet unwilling to lose sight of his only sister.

Harry watched Ginny calmly limp toward him. His hooded eyes made gave no sign of what he was thinking, a skill Amos had helped him develop.

"Harry?" she whispered in a very unGinny-like way, almost as she did not quite believe he was there. One second she was standing before him the next Harry found himself wrapped in her arms and the dull clank of a cane hitting the ground. "Neville said you were off studying and I was hoping to talk to you….in private."

Using every drop of control Harry restrained an embarrassed blush from his face. Amos would be laughing at him if he could see him now.

"The Room of Requirement should be free." Ginny nodded in agreement and accepted the cane Ron offered.

"I'm coming with you two."

"Ron…." Ginny sighed with exasperation. "I'm old enough to walk by myself and I'm not even going by myself. Harry's coming with."

"No offense Harry but I'm still edgy about letting you wander around. You are still recovering. I don't care if you have to make me deaf but I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry had the distinct feeling this argument had already been held many times before. Surprisingly enough Ron seemed to be winning them too.

Their walk to the Room of Requirement was a little awkward. Ginny limped along determined to walk by herself while Ron hovered nervously. Harry on the other hand kept thinking of topics to bring up and dismissing them just as quickly.

It hurt knowing he carried so many secrets from two people who had been among his closest friends little more than a year ago.

Harry had the oddest feeling that tonight would be a deciding moment in their friendship.

Walking three times before the door he thought of a room that would be warded and secure against spies. Hogwarts did not disappoint.

The room inside was not as comfortable as the Common Room but Harry would prefer it not be for the moment. He had learned to trust his instincts a long time ago.

Ginny gratefully sat in a comfortable chair while Ron took the one next to her and Harry sat in front of them.

For a moment the trio remained silent instinctively knowing that Ginny was the one that needed to speak.

"T-two weeks ago was perhaps the most terrifying moment of my life. I knew I wasn't going to live very long, they weren't interested in keeping _me_ alive." Ginny said almost bitterly. "And here I am. I escaped death again and they tell me I will always need a cane to walk." Ginny finished, her voice breaking near the end.

"I think back to that day. I thought myself so brave standing before those Death Eaters. I threw myself at them and I got tangled up with them as they escaped. And all that time I spent captured I wished more than anything I had never dared. The DA never prepared us for this." For the first time in her monologue Ginny raised shadowed brown eyes. They were…sad and hurt. The DA could never truly prepare her for what she faced. Vaguely Harry recalled the last time he had shown up in one of the meetings, it was sometime last Easter when they were going over the Patronus Charm. He wondered who ran it now since Harry had quit going early in sixth year though the club still ran.

She leaned in toward him as if to tell him a secret.

"Torture, Harry, torture changes you. How could they take joy in that! How could they watch and know! How could they!" Ginny whispered harshly. Whatever facade that had kept her standing for two weeks was being torn apart.

Ron moved in to embrace her but he knew better than to interrupt. All the while dark brown eyes never left his own green eyes.

Harry ignored any embarrassment he felt as he reached out to take Ginny's hand.

"Virginia Weasley." Harry murmured trying to find the words Ginny needed to hear. "Two weeks ago you went up against Death Eaters. Why did you fight?"

Ginny's face clouded in confusion.

"Why did you decide to fight against them? Did you think it your duty as a Gryffindor? Your honor as a Light witch? Did you feel hatred toward the Death Eaters? Did you think about who they were attacking? Why did you throw yourself at them?"

"I was trying to grab the little Gryffindor girl. She was crying-- so scared and terrified before they stunned her. And I couldn't even to that. They took her anyway and I got dragged along."

Harry interrupted her before she could become hysterical.

"You were trying to protect."

"Yes. Load of good that did me."

Harry ignored the criticism she inflicted upon herself.

"And would you ever deny someone your protection if you felt you could offer it?"

Ginny was silent for a moment, her gaze resting on crest of Hogwarts painted on the wall behind Harry. Meeting his eyes once more she whispered one word with all the conviction she could muster.

"Never."

"Then never think yourself foolish for doing what you believe." A lesson Harry had brooded over for a long time after Sirius' death.

Ginny's face betrayed her uncertainty but Harry saw a small spark return to her eyes. It would be a long time before she would believe she had not failed but eventually she would. Life had changed for Ginny no matter what. Torture was something that had ripped what naivety Riddle's diary had not tainted.

Harry cradled the small scared hand between his own knowing his hands held their own scars.

"You were tortured." Ginny flinched at how blunt the statement sounded. Ron frowned but a look from Harry silenced him "You can never be the same girl you were. You can never forget what happen and I suspect it will haunt your dreams for a long time. But you survived. So you live freely once more but how much did the Death Eaters take from you? You might be alive but it matters not if you lost your life to them. Will you let them take your life from you?

"It's alright to fear them, to hate them for what they did. It's alright to scream and cry for what they did to you so long as you never fear them enough to paralyze you, so long as you never hate them enough to forget all else, so long as you never cry enough to forget how to smile."

The pale hand trembled between his own and downcast eyes were suspiciously wet.

"I hate them." Ginny whispered. "I hate them for what they did!"

"And it's alright to hate them so long as you remember hate does not rule your life. They became monsters when they took joy from your pain."

Harry was never a saint that would forgive those that were let down the wrong path. He had never understood Dumbledore's mercy even when he still worshiped the man.

Silent tears fell down her cheeks as Ginny buried her face in Ron's shoulder. The trio fell into solemn silence that was broken every so often by the girl's silent cry.

"I-I called you down here to thank you for what you did." Harry's heart stopped for a minute. Did Ginny recognize him?

"Percy told me how no one could find us and it wasn't till you contacted Mr. Morrigan that he tracked us." She gave him a wan smile. "He was throwing a fit that Morrigan insulted about every person there with authority. He really harped over the terms of contact Morrigan gave Dumbledore. I think Percy is more than a little miffed at the Ministry; mind you not that he loves Professor Dumbledore any better. But thank you for helping me and I wish I could thank Morrigan to his face but you'd tell him, won't you?"

"Of course Ginny."

Till then Ron had chosen to remain silent but it looked like he finally reached the limit of his patience.

"You know Morrigan quite well." Ron stated his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Well enough."

"Why does he fight?"

Harry sighed but did not deny his closest friends this.

"Because he cannot stay out of it. Morrigan is like me—the power he wields is attractive to those who hold power right now. He has no wish to fight for their view of a perfect world so he fights for his own if he must fight."

"So he doesn't like Dumbledore?" Ron said slowly.

"No. If Dumbledore should win things would not change. I know you were raised in the Wizarding World so it does not seem odd to you but to outsiders it is clear what is happening. Had this war never happened then in less than a decade we would have been submerged in another goblin war. The rumors of Fudge trying to take Gringotts from the goblins did hold some truth. It doesn't help that many of his advisors are particularly prejudiced against magical creatures. In less than two decades another werewolf war would have broken out unless the Ministry remembered to have their bicentennial extermination of werewolves. In about thirty years the Hunters would be 'mysteriously' funded for their centennial massacre in order to trim down the ranks of vampires. These are the reasons why Voldemort gained power so readily, why he appeals to even sensible wizards. He might be a bloody tyrant but he at least has a better sense of fairness toward so called Dark Creatures than our own glorious leaders."

"If you know all this how come Dumbledore doesn't?"

"Who says he doesn't? He knows where our future is heading but it has been like that for all his life and he probably sees no need in changing that."

"Why wouldn't he?" Ginny murmured thoughtfully, the only sign of her previous distress were red eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Only he can answer that."

"How do you know?" Ron asked finally.

Harry gave his hopefully best-friend a level stare. "The man is old. Soon enough he will die. Who do you think was being trained to be his replacement?"

Ginny gaped and Ron's eyes bugged out at the statement. Harry watched carefully. He would love to have them by his side but Ron's loyalty had always been swayed by his jealousy.

"But he's hardly ever with you!" Ginny exclaimed, not quite willing to believe Harry would be the next Dumbledore even if it did seem pretty obvious in retrospect.

"Why should he? He's spent the first five years of my schooling prodding me in the direction he wanted me to go. My compassion, my loyalty, my instincts, my resourcefulness, my resilience. They have all been tested."

A dark shadow crossed both their faces as they remembered some of their more vivid moments.

"You…mean…all that was a test?"

"Not exactly. I don't believe he ever created any of the situations. The plots were real enough but he has always let me enter the situations with only my wits and friends as he stands back and watches how I handle myself. No doubt he has had his suspicions about many things but he has always let his pawns discover the pitfalls present. My parents came to Hogwarts for seven years as did yours and none of them ever faced the dangerous we have within this school. These things have never touched students so why should they us?"

"But… a test?" repeated Ron almost unwilling to believe. It was difficult to believe that of a man they had all trusted.

"A test."

Ron sighed in defeat. "I know, mate. I know. It always seemed odd how George and Fred with all their knowledge of Hogwarts never knew what lay behind Fluffy. Those two are daft enough to have tried to get down there if they had known."

"So Morrigan won't fight for Dumbledore and he won't fight for Voldemort." Ginny interrupted their musings.

"How do you know he wont fight for Voldemort?" Harry said letting his amusement shine.

"Simple. You are allied with Morrigan and you are 1) a half-blood, 2) the Boy-Who-Lived, and 3) a pest to Dark Wizards everywhere."

Harry laughed.

"True enough."

"Then I've only one thing to say to you Harry James Potter." She said sternly before she continued softly. "I swear my magic and allegiance to you Harry James Potter. I may not know what path you take but I trust you to true to what you believe in as I always have even when I could not understand you."

He blinked in surprise. That was certainly unexpected. Torture really did change the girl. Harry felt a tingling across his skin signaling the Oath being accepted. He found himself being studied under blue eyes as Ron's eyes showed a decision he too was facing.

"You know Harry, my family won't escape this war. Even if I could I know I will never willingly walk away from them. Sometimes I wanted to know what was going on other times I wanted to pretend none of this was happening. I've followed you since we were midgets and even when you've made bad choices you've always done it for a good reason. I don't know who to trust in this war but you've never let me astray. Harry James Potter, I swear my magic and allegiance to you."

Harry felt the magic seal itself.

"Hold my trust as I shall hold yours and honor your Oaths for what they are."

Harry paused to study them for a second before breaking out in a true smile.

"Thank you my friends."

**S**

**TBC….**

**Notarius** : stenographer (class.), notary, legal scribe.

**AN**: **Sorry for the long wait but this chapter was hard to write since it's more of an intermediate one. I wrote chapter 17 a long time ago as well as the next one but lost them when my computer went on the fritz. I wrote chapter 17 again and saved it on a floppy disk that I lost. So by then I was becoming quite frustrated. This is my third version of chapter 17 and if something goes wrong I'll be very upset!**

**Calling all Betas! If anyone can fix the grammar on chapters I have already posted I would love you forever!**

**S**

**Thanks for all the Reviews! **

**You all really encouraged me not to give up on chapter 17. I would personally thank you all but I got quite…a lot of reviews since then and I really want to post this.**

**Sorry but thanks for your love or whatever you gave!**

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**Notes:**

_Old Northland mythology:_

_" All Life is figured by them as a tree. Igdrasil, the Ash-tree of existence, has its roots deep down in the kingdoms of Hela, or Death; its trunk reaches up heaven high, spreads its boughs over the whole universe: it is the Tree of Existence. At the foot of it, in the Death kingdom, sit three Nornas (Fates)--the Past, Present, Future--watering its roots from the Sacred Well. Its boughs, with their buddings and disleafings--events, things suffered, things done, catastrophes--stretch through all lands and times. every leaf of it a biography--every fiber there an act or word"  
an eagle rests on the summit of this mystic tree to observe all that passes in the world, whilst a squirrel constantly ascends and descends to report those things that the eagle may not have seen. Serpents twine round its trunk, and from its roots flow two limpid streams--that of the knowledge of things past and that of the knowledge of things to come. Man himself was formed from the wood of this sacred tree."_

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**REVIEW! **


	18. Cursed Blessing

**Cursed Blessing**

**T**here was something terribly fragile about the boy Amos often thought. For all his power the child had been hurt too often for him to ever truly heal. Amos Caliga had lived long enough to know the child would carry the scars of youth on his soul for all eternity.

Nearly two years ago the child had been nothing but emotions strung together in a mad conglomerate. About the only thing the child knew were masks; masks that even Amos sometimes didn't realize existed. It was a gamble when talking to the child for Amos never knew what mask he wore. He could never be sure what emotions were real.

Perhaps that was the greatest tragedy. The child had been wearing masks that merely reflected what people wanted to see for so long that many charged with guiding him too often dismissed him as a passive moody youth. They didn't see the calculating mind hidden behind emerald eyes. They didn't see the ruthlessness in his soul, the bitterness in his heart, and the despair in his soul.

Amos hadn't expected to see anything and because of that he saw more clearly than all others. Luck and birth had given rise to the young man before him while misfortune and tragedy had shaped him into something he would never had been alone. That was not to say the child was lacking for if anything he had become something greater because of his trials.

It only remained for the world to recognize Harry James Potter for what he was.

**S**

**G**inny and Ron didn't change overmuch after their oaths. Ron was still enamored with Quidditch and Ginny would sometimes barricade herself in her dorm room and brood. Life continued on normally but now both had a new awareness in their life. Always in the back of their mind hummed the magical bond to Harry and never did they forget they owned him their fealty.

Harry didn't care to involve either of them in any physical battles neither could he use them in any political endeavors because both were too well known as being confidants of his so Harry exploited the situation they were already in. He asked both of them to keep their ears open and eyes alert for rumors that traveled the school and the movements of key figures within the school. They became his ears within the school, a potentially dangerous power he granted them over him but one he trusted them with.

Never could his friendship with Seamus, Dean, and Neville ever replace one that had been cultivated since he had been a wide-eyed child lost in the mysteries of magic. While Seamus and Dean never thought to move their friendship beyond supportive comradice Neville steadily grew into a very real confidant of his. Though still struggling with much of the responsibilities he shared with Harry, Neville never failed to support him and even offered insights that Harry had never thought of before.

Dean would leave the magical world soon enough and Seamus was not all that keen on staying in Britain. They gave him their support at Hogwarts but Harry failed to envision any longer ties than that.

It was with the others that he would have to learn to trust with his secrets. And it seemed Theodore Nott was angling to become one of them as well.

**S**

**T**he first time Nott greeted Harry in the corridors of Hogwarts those watching swore someone was polyjuiceing someone. The second time it happened there were rumors of the mind-controlling potions. The third time it happened those more paranoia-inclined students, in other words Slytherin House and select Ravenclaws, chalked it up to a plot made to deliver the Golden Boy to the Dark Lord. The fourth time it happened Harry glared at them with steel eyes and most decided their suspicions were best kept in more private settings.

Theodore Nott had never had much in the way of friends. Mostly he associated himself with Daphne Greengrass, his second cousin and if his mother had her way his future wife. He had the mind for politics and the silver-tongue to charm his way there. Theodore would one day rise high within the Ministry; that is to say if he lived that long. This let back to his original problem. He needed allies. He needed Harry Potter.

**H**arry lay sprawled on the bench in one of Hogwarts many courtyards. This particular one had only a scattering of people; it afforded him certain privacy without inciting rumors centered on his disappearing acts. The day was chilly and the rare November sun did little to warm the bench beneath him. Some well placed warming charms and a cup of tea conveniently ordered from a nearby house-elf had the Boy Who Lived in a rare moment of peace.

That was the scene Theodore found at three in the afternoon just as lazy bolts of sunlight lit the Golden Boy's dark hair a peculiar dark red, a remnant of his mother if anyone cared to remember.

"Potter." Greeted the Slytherin.

"Nott. Out for a walk?"

"Among other things. Mind if I sit here?" Harry could only shrug. It was not as he could stop the boy who was already seated on the same bench Harry was sprawled in. Lazily he hauled his upper body so it was erect.

"Something on your mind Nott?"

"Just enjoying the day. Not often you can find peace now a day."

Harry shrugged again and picked at his lukewarm team.

"Since when do House-elves serve tea out here!"

Harry gave the boy a Cheshire grin that said nothing and implied everything.

"Figures you would find a way." Muttered the boy.

"Nott, don't prattle on about useless subjects. Why are you seeking me out?" Harry practically purred. His right hand retreated into his robe and discretely dislodged his wand before casting a few silencing spells as well as some relatively powerful Notice-Me-Not charms. This wasn't time to indulge in impressive spell work. The simplest spells were often overlooked.

Nott turned to Harry facing him so both could read those miniscule reactions neither had learned to hide.

Nott breathed in deeply before speaking slowly, almost as if the words were being forced from his throat.

"I will not follow the Dark Lord come December."

To his credit Harry didn't gape. Much like he carried certain expectations, Nott was naturally expected to become a Death Eater. Even Harry had fallen under the illusion. Surprises were always shocks to the system.

"Lovely. Moving on….Why exactly did I need to know this?"

Nott sputtered. Harry smiled benignly. It was always great fun smashing people's expectations.

"Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived? Dumbledore's lackey? Voldemort's enemy?"

Nott recovered quickly.

"Because you are the most likely to survive this war."

Harry's smile turned dark while his bright green eyes flickered with shadows.

"I may survive but those around me have a habit of doing the opposite." For the first time since the two began talking Harry's voice had lost its flippant edge and for the first time Theodore glimpsed behind the shadows that surrounded Harry.

"Because you will not ask for my sacrifice."

"We do not always have the luxury of being asked for what others prefer to demand of us."

"Will you demand it of me then?" Nott countered. Harry didn't answer as his gaze traveled to three second years huddled at the far side of the courtyard. Huffelpuff's by the look of things.

"Will you demand it of me?" Harry asked quietly. Intense emerald eyes flickered back to the Slytherin. "Careful what you seek for dreams have let men astray many times before. I am not a Savior. I am not a Martyr. Do not look at me to save you from the Dark."

He paused for a moment. A Slytherin-worthy sneer forming on his lips.

"I have many enemies and will likely pick up a few more very soon. Your life expectancy will fall under question the moment you think to stand next to me."

If anything Nott smiled in relief. At that point in the conversation Harry reserved the right to be utterly baffled by what exactly Nott was looking for. Hanging around Malfoy probably did that to a person.

"But you would stand next to those you called your own, wouldn't you Potter?" Nott said amusement leaking into pale eyes as Harry refused to answer. "That is the difference you realize. Anyone else would not think twice of sacrificing me if only to further their own ends."

Harry's face regained its flippant edge.

"What makes you think I won't do such a thing? This is war after all."

"I know. Seeking you out might prove a mistake yet but at least if you plan on giving me to the wolves you are too Gryffindor to leave me ignorant of the fact."

Harry muttered some Parseltongue curses, most revolving around the fact that Slytherins knew too much for their own good.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry waved his hand carelessly. "I'm _noble_ and all that rot."

Nott couldn't help but grin at how indignant Harry sounded. It almost sounded as if Harry took it as a personal offense.

"Nott…." Harry sighed slowly while looking at the younger boy with serious eyes. Theodore actually had to fight the urge to fidget.

"Theodore." He corrected. Theodore wasn't all that sure why he let Potter use his first name. Even among his roommates he was called Nott more often than not.

"Theodore…" Both boys gained a strange look on their face. "…That'll take some getting used to…I will stand next to those who put faith in me but I warn you, I ask for the simplest things that are perhaps the most difficult to give. I will stand besides you but I ask for your faith and your loyalty. They aren't that hard to promise but it proves somewhat difficult to actually give because once you fail I do not forgive nor will I forget. Betrayal is what has determined the life I lead. I do not take kindly to repeats of those events."

Theodore wasn't fool enough to ignore the warning Harry gave. This wasn't anything like the Ministry where favors were traded and allies shifted daily nor could it be compared to the Dark Lord's service where fellow Death Eater's were betrayed to the Master in order to curry favor.

"I risk much by calling you ally. Don't let my faith be misplaced." Harry whispered so quietly Theodore almost didn't hear him. He was startled out of his pensive mood when Harry smiled brightly at him before extending his hand in what Theodore assumed was a handshake.

"By the way, call me Harry." He said cheerfully as if their conversation had never delved into dangerous areas.

"….If you say so…Harry." Theodore would really have to work on not being startled every time Harry changed moods.

How aggravating.

**S**

**D**ivination's was not a class Harry spent any time mulling over. After the rather beautiful (at least in his opinion) Troll on his O.W.L. scores Harry had gratefully dropped the class. Ron in a miracle that baffled even him had received an Acceptable and had been convinced (forced by Mrs. Weasley) to continue the class. Firenze instructed third to fifth year since he had been banished from his herd while Professor Trelawney took care of the upper years.

Neither was inclined to have meals in the Great Hall. Occasionally Harry saw the centaur when he passed Hagrid's hut but other than that neither had ever felt inclined to seek the other.

This is why it came as a surprise to see Firenze hovering near the end of Care of Magical Creatures. The students had gratefully packed their bags and some even walked a little faster than called for as they left another of Hagrid's 'interesting' lessons.

"Harry Potter." The centaur called out in the same fashion he had used when the first two had met. "The stars speak of strange things. For many nights now the Moon has obscured the secrets the stars reveal. Most strange it is."

"Oh?" Harry said warily. His opinion on destiny was not all that complementary either.

"My brethren in the forest called me two moonsets ago. They imparted a message they themselves carried from another. Harry Potter, the Sage asks for your presence. 'Memories cannot be trapped where the Seers divide' He can be found at the gathering of stone the Old Ones built when the Full Moon dawns."

Harry frowned but knew better than to ask pointless questions. Centaurs were odd beings.

"What have you seen in the stars Firenze?"

The centaur gazed pensively into the mortal wizard before him.

"Mars shines brightly even as Jupiter rises."

From his Astronomy classes Harry knew Mars stood for the God of War while Jupiter was Zeus, King of Gods.

"Thank you." Harry said politely before trekking back into Hogwarts. Harry had an odd feeling Firenze was seeing the birth of the King of War. Trouble was, at least for Harry, anyone could be that King.

**S**

**H**arry had played enough word games to figure out Firenze's riddle. It was almost like talking to a Sphinx. He would have to go to Stonehenge of all places the night of the Full Moon which fell on Friday in order to meet this mysterious "Sage".

Harry wasn't as foolish as to meet the Sage without thinking. That's how he ended up in the worst situations every year so far. That of course didn't mean there wasn't some merit in meeting this Sage.

Centaurs as a whole were neutral and not all that inclined mentally or otherwise to deal with the present. Thus plots and treachery were somewhat above their normal thought process. Of course most wouldn't mind if humans killed each other off the face of the earth but they weren't as…devious to plot against Harry specifically.

Firenze was such an oddball among his kind simply because he chose to interfere. Having the ability to feel the future meant that centaurs didn't like mingling since they feared their knowledge would change the course of the stars.

Firenze was the messenger and a wild card but he admitted the message came from his kind. So who could entice reclusive creatures to seek out a mortal wizard?

**S**tonehenge is even more beautiful at night than during the day. Since it was closed to the public during the nighttime Harry couldn't help but feel like he was stepping back in time. The air had a strange feel to it, a heaviness that spoke of magic and age. Against the full moon the pillars of stone glowed dully, forever trapped in time.

Humans had struggled hard to preserve the stone monuments without damaging them further. Wizards and Muggles alike had been fascinated by the origins of the structure though try as they might no one knew its purpose. Stonehenge had been the object of fascination for beings of every race.

Harry couldn't help but think it was creepy.

He arrived early in order to wander the grounds while randomly throwing revealing charms. His invincibility cloak afforded him protection from Muggle security. The moon was near its zenith when Harry saw a bright light burst into existence within the circle of stones. Hidden as he was it was unlikely that anyone arriving would have seen him.

A figure was softly outlined within the circle of stones. It was slightly bent and shrouded in a dark cloak.

Warily Harry walked up to the figure. Honestly, he would like to think he had learned something off stealth. Perhaps that is why Harry nearly fired a curse when the figure talked.

The figure was male, old with a rumbling voice that creaked every other word.

"Mr. Potter. Thank you for joining me."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. It wasn't easing his peace of mind that the man entire body was cloaked.

"You are?"

"Ah yes…my name. I suppose we couldn't do without that. Bothersome thing. Aberforth Augustus Dominicus Dumbledore, son of Augustus Dumbledore and Marie Wesley."

The cloak fell back to reveal an old man, pale skin wrinkled heavily with age, long white hair bound at his nape and braided down his back. Time had marred the man heavily. What startled Harry though where pale white eyes, cataracts hiding all sign of blue eyes.

"Aberforth Dumbledore." Harry whispered from numb lips before he felt his face fall behind a mask. Cold anger burned in emerald eyes but his voice betrayed none of that it. "Why have you summoned me?"

Sightless eyes turned toward Harry.

"It was time."

Harry felt his lips pull back in a snarl.

"Your brother sprouts more than enough riddles. I won't waste my time listening to any more."

Aberforth merely laughed; a harsh sound that was wheezy with age.

"At his age it would be surprising if the world hadn't become a riddle. Albus may be my brother and your Headmaster but he is not what I am concerned about, child. Tell me, knowing nothing save that the centaurs told you, why did come here tonight?"

Harry immediately fell into the defensive. Green eyes narrowed somewhat childishly.

"Call it my endless curiosity." Drawled the boy.

"Listen to me Potter! Forget Albus! Tonight does not concern him. Answer me truthfully and I shall return the favor. Lie to me and this meeting will bring naught but riddles."

"I…felt like it." Harry practically muttered after a moment. Reigning in his embarrassment Harry continued speaking. "You haven't told me why you summoned me."

"I called you to give you the last piece in this puzzle and to offer an explanation as well as a choice. There where many reasons why you shouldn't have come and precious few saying otherwise. you gambled with luck and it just so happens to have turned to your favor. Isn't it true young Potter that luck had more often than not sided with you? You always seem to be there at the right moment—a step from defeat, a breath from victory."

"And?"

"Nothing and everything. You'll understand soon enough what I wish to tell you. Do you remember the message the centaurs gave you, child?"

"… 'Memories… cannot be trapped where the Seers divide.'"

"That is one of the basic creeds those that travel the Plane are taught. Can you guess at what it hints at?"

Harry merely shook his head before remembering the man was blind. He muttered a negative.

"No, I suppose not." With a flick of his wand Aberforth conjured two plush chairs and a floating tea set.

"Tea?" offered the old man before pouring his own cup.

"…No thanks."

The old man merely shrugged before banishing the tea set. His posture melted into the plush chair behind him and sightless eyes settled at a distant point from within the circle of stone.

"Do you know how old I am?"

Harry looked at the wizard oddly.

"Older than your brother?" He offered having no other idea.

Aberforth let loose a harsh laugh.

"True enough, but without knowing his age it helps little in knowing mine. I am nearly two centuries old and my power has only grown since in that time. For the majority of those decades I have lived with the hope the Great Gods would take pity on me and grant me death. I am old." He stated in weary voice.

"Older than I've any right to be. I have been loved and I have been hated and soon enough I will be forgotten. There are precious few wizards older than me and fewer still that remember me for what I am. My father's line holds power in their name but it was my mother's blood that carried true power. I was their Heir, their precious son. The next Leader of the Light my father used to say."

Aberforth fell silent as he reminiscent, his lips twisting as he recalled less than fond memories.

"I was nearly twenty when my greatest secret was discovered, my father's greatest shame. Tell me child, do you know what the wizarding-kind think of Seers?"

Harry remained silent. True Seers weren't as common as those that had spots of Seer blood in them and because of that he had rarely come across any references to them. Trelawney certainly wasn't a shinning example of one in any case.

"Seers are held in fascination and awe in the hearts of men…however that does not disguise their fear of the 'Blessed'. Seers have the potential if not the power to spill words of damnation and death. Prophecies are tricky things made of strange magic; those that hear the cursed foretelling are ensnared in the words of Fate." Supplied the elder man.

"Wizards don't take kindly to such Cursed folk. They fear Seers look beyond today and meddle in the fates of those near them. It is true when great tragedy is foreseen those that would listen to their sympathetic hearth might try to avert catastrophe. In such cases death can be the only result for Fate does not take kindly to those that disrupt the webs of lives."

Harry swallowed heavily. Suddenly the man's rambling where hitting a little close to home. After all didn't he live under the cloud of damming words? Wasn't his Fate tangled in the mad words of a batty, superstitious fraud of a teacher?

"Do prophesies always foretell destruction?" He asked with a small hope that maybe the fate of the world wasn't centered on him so harshly.

"No….but rarely do they do otherwise. The power of Seers is the ability to travel onto another Plane where life-lines are represented in an environment where time is visible. To consciously travel there requires tremendous mental and magical power. Magical in order to cross the plane and mental in order to keep ones mind from merging with your respective lifeline. Seers of weaker discipline will never attain conscious control of their abilities. Those without proper magical reserves can only cross to the other plane when certain events come to pass, one of those being when many life-lines are tangled close together. Unfortunately most of those events usually signal great change in the form of chaos thus stigmatizing Seers as heralds of war."

"So…," Harry began trying to collect his thoughts. "Why is it so important for me to know about Seers besides utterly destroying any hope I had that I wasn't cursed?"

Aberforth gave him a fierce grin that was more than a little bloodthirsty. It looked distinctly odd seeing such a look on a face that could have been his Headmaster in a few more years.

"Because young Potter you _are_ a Seer."

Harry choked.

"I'm BLOODY WELL NOT!" Harry roared, a tremble hidden behind his enraged words.

The old man merely laughed his harsh laugh.

"Ah yes…you don't even fully understand the distain the wizarding-kind hold and the knowledge you are one still manages to enrage you." Crackled the old man.

"You understand now about luck? Whenever some instinct in you tells you to stop, to listen, and to go meet a batty old man under the full moon. No one's luck but the Tricksters is that good. Subconsciously at least you should be able to sense the paths of life-lines most beneficial."

Harry called up his Occlumency lessons. He couldn't waste time stewing on inconsequential things.

"If as you say I'm supposed to pick the most beneficial path then why have I chosen paths that have let to the death of those I loved?" Harry asked, his mind immediately jumping to the fateful day at the end of his fifth year.

The old man nodded his head in understanding almost as if he expected the question.

"You speak of Mr. Black, ne?" Ignoring Harry's flinch the old man continued. "Because it was the most beneficial path. Had you never come to the Ministry that night the Dark One would have never been exposed till Britain itself found herself on her knees. When ignorance was the greatest mercy available those that feared truth would have done anything in their power to preserve such illusions. Soon after that possible future came to pass you would have found yourself expelled from Hogwarts because your delusions disturbed the parents and the school would have fallen for you had always been the key at keeping the Dark One at bay."

"Is Fate forever set? Have we really no choice but to follow prescribed paths?"

"Fate is not as set as some would like to believe. It offers us a selection of possibilities." The old man let loose another crackle that somehow managed to sound surprised.

"However…the possibilities are limited…yet…I hadn't believed it possible…but even destiny can be remolded. Like I said I am nearly two centuries old and one of the strongest Seers to ever live for I can travel to the other Plane and keep my memories of my time but for all my years I had never seen Fate diverge from the available paths. That is till an event came to pass nearly two decades ago that broke all the creeds I had been taught. The events of Hallows Eve of 1981 affected many people and thus even Seers of mediocre ability were called to witness the events. The power required to travel the Plane was so great that few if any Seers are able to recollect what they See. My brother came to me to confirm a prophesy spoken by a woman of little ability but with the right training to transmit what she Saw to those around her. I told him I would if he swore that would be the last time he would ever seek me out. She Saw correctly but what I did not tell him was the three paths that lay before that divergence in Fate. If the Dark One choose the Longbottom boy then the boy would die and in death would he seal the reign of Darkness. If the Dark One choose neither and merely watched then both prophesized children would be the end of the other. If the Dark One choose the green-eyed child then both would die."

Aberforth turned wonder-filled eyes on the speechless boy besides him.

"On Hallows Eve I felt the life-lines convulse and reform. People died that would have never died and children were born that would have never been born. In that moment of chaos the Dark One was expelled from his body and a boy that should have ceased to exist….lived. I know naught why it happened save that it did. Because you lived you became a center of Change, a catalyst of sorts. Pity so few realized the momentous occasion. Seers strong enough to recall what they Saw are nothing more than hermits. This brings me back to the creed I spoke of initially. 'Memories cannot be trapped where the Seers divide'. Tell me Mr. Potter are you aware of the origin of _Obliviate_?"

"No." Harry coughed. He was so surprised at the change of subject he nearly choked on the startled breath he threw in.

"I bet if you aren't interest in it it's only a matter of time before you are. Before _Obliviate_ Memory Charms were faulty. _Obliviate_ was designed to mimic the effects Seers suffer when their mind is lost to the other Plane. It temporarily opens the path to the other Plane and thrusts the mind of the recipient there while inducing a hypnotic state. After specifying the memories you want lost it draws back the mind. It follows that Muggle Law of Energy, Energy cannot be destroyed but merely transformed. It applies to magic as well. Those without the inborn ability to travel the Plane are never able to reconnect to find those memories. It was one of the greatest spells invented, brilliant when applying it on any Muggle, wizard, or creature but an utter failure when it is turned against a True Seer. A Seers mind does loose the memories but because of the inborn connection we unconsciously call back those pieces of ourselves."

Harry was dimly aware of a roaring in his ears as he momentarily lost his concentration. He hadn't quite believed he was a Seer till then. The Gods hated him he faintly realized.

"Why now?" Harry whispered. "Why now have you chosen to interfere with my life? Why have you decided now was the time to hand me these revelations?"

His voice steadily grew louder. He was aware his words carried more than a hint of accusations. This conversation suddenly seemed too similar to all the times the Headmaster played with information crucial to his life. The old man was unperturbed as he answered.

"It was time. I don't know what has happened in your life or why I had to wait till tonight. All I know that it was time."

Both men fell silent as Harry digested what he had heard.

"What does it mean for me to be….a Seer?"

"There are many levels. You are perhaps the most convenient of them all. You have enough ability to connect with the other Plane without being lost. You haven't enough power to continuously be drawn to every damn grouping of life-lines. At the most your dreams might foretell of things to come. While you wont know what lies ahead your instincts are tuned in enough to sometimes give you hints of what path is best. Sometimes those instincts wont matter and sometimes they will be the deciding factor in close decisions. It's all really vague."

The knot in his chest relaxed a bit. His life had been ruined by a prophesy once already. He had no wish to become a tool meant to unleash cursed rhymes.

"I guess…that's not that bad."

Aberforth gave a short laugh.

"No, it really isn't. You have what some would call a Thief's luck. Because of my visions it had been my self-appointed duty for many years to instruct fledging Seers in their abilities. The most dangerous thing is to have a Seer who is unaware of their power used by someone who is. Like all things being a Seer is a convoluted mess. Those not powerful enough to retain their minds in the other Plane funnily enough lose the memories of their time there though with the proper training they are able to transmit things they see. That was actually the basis that let to the formation of _Obliviate_."

Harry's mind worked furiously to connect things that had baffled his mind before. This was the reason Trelawney never seemed to recollect the possibly only two true prophesies she had ever said.

"You said you would offer me an explanation and a choice. I don't see much of a choice in being a Seer." Harry recalled from the beginning of this conversation..

"Yes, of course. I sought you initially to reveal your abilities. The choice I offer however is of a personal nature. I am old and I feel I won't live much longer, thank the Great Gods. What no one tells you is that Seers have a habit of going mad and dying early. Too much of a strain on the mind. When my abilities where first revealed the career my father had crafted for me went up in smoke. The political aspirations he had were suddenly null…I'm still not sure if that was a blessing or not. No ruddy Seer would ever be allowed to lead his family where he wanted. So my father conceived another child, a son to carry my father's name and my mother's title. Everyone assured him I wouldn't live for very long. The Trickster laughed when I outlived all the bastards. Since none have been able to prove me mad, not that that means anything, I have held the power of my family since my parents passed on. My father would cry at what has become of his family a century after his death. His two sons rarely speak while most of his extended family have died long since. I never deigned to have children for fear my abilities would manifest in any child of mine. It was my brother that would have continued our family had not he lost his wife and children in a Vampire War near the turn of the century. With my death he inherits the title he has covenant for most of his life, Lord Dumbledore, and another I have never let him touch. That is to say if I do not name my own Heir. I care little for my father's name but it is my mother's that I treasure. I wanted to ask you to be the Heir of my mother's legacy. Will you be the Heir of Marie Elena Wesley, Heiress of Gryffindor?"

Under the full moon's light and surrounded by stone pillars Harry really had to wonder if this was the strangest night of his life.

**S**

**AN: Sorry I went AWOL (What does that mean anyway?) . I had Midterms and am now finishing my finals.**

**By the way I know Aberforth is a bartender in the Canon but please indulge me.**

**Uhmm….other than that I have no real news….**

**Thanks for all the reviews. They always made me come back and finish this chapter. I had written it once before alongside the last chapter but like I said both disappeared when my computer decided to go on strike. It has joined an Union since then so hopefully everything should be better.**

Thanks Again!

P.S. For some confusion I did not mean to say Harry was the new Lord Dumbledore( that's just creepy). Aberforth only offered him Gryffindor.


	19. On the Edge of a Sword

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**On the Edge of a Sword**

"No. Absolutely not."

"Oh?" The coot inquired.

"I don't know what you are playing at and at this point I'm not sure I even want to know but this ends _now_."

Harry turned green eyes toward his companion—his eyes burned with suppressed emotions and thoughts.

"I came tonight; I believed what you said; and I even trusted you to tell me the truth but I will not become a pawn in whatever game you and your brother are playing at."

The Seer gave him a smile that was slightly vampiric.

"I'm a dead man young Potter. I won't involve myself in whatever squabble our world finds itself in."

"That's not what I meant." Harry countered viciously. "You and your brother; I've seen it before plenty of times in other families. Neither of you can tolerate the other and one if not both of you resents the other for who knows what. Merlin knows you've had plenty of time to find things to throw a fit over."

Aberforth lost his smile. A look washed over his features that Harry was surprised to recognize from Luna Lovegood's face.

"Ah…young Potter; Ravenclaw always did love the intelligent ones though in the end I suppose your courage is what made you a Gryffindor."

"This is hardly the time to talk about Houses." Harry snapped.

"We were hardly talking about Houses, were we young Potter?"

Harry glared at Aberforth suspiciously. He thought it wiser to remain silent less he reveal delicate information.

"Then you must understand why it is impossible to name me the bloody Heir of Gryffindor."

If anything Aberforth appeared amused by his last statement.

"All the more reason to do so. Did you know young Potter that a Seer's abilities are limited to within the lifeline they themselves will live through? I see very little now and for the first time since I was a child I will make decisions that I have little idea to where they may lead. And you know what? I find it incredibly liberating. However this decision involves neither my abilities nor my recklessness. My very blood chooses you."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair completely content to wait for an explanation.

"The Great Families were always rather strange. Some are even suspected to predate the very wizarding world itself. Scholars have theorized that modern wizards are actually the descendants of wielders of magic that could not be called wizards in any sense of the word. Those ancestors of ours were supposed to be something more pure; more in tune with nature. Unspeakables call them Elementals—beings who wielded the very force of nature in its most raw form. Blood-gifts are sited as examples of their remnant gifts, such as the Poison Tears of the Hikaru Family, the Black Flame of the Black Family, and the Ice Knifes of the Dyfed family. It is believed many left enchantments on those of their kin—it has never been proven since none of the Great Families have ever submitted their legacy for public study."

"And I suppose you just happen to have one of these bloody enchantments…?" drawled Harry.

"Would I be explaining this otherwise? The line of Gryffindor has been broken twice already. My mother's family, the Wesleys, was not the first to be gifted with the power of the Golden Lions. Once before a son of kings and dragons was shown the Lions' favor. They were all chosen in the same manner just as you were chosen."

Harry tried to contain his puzzled expression but couldn't help but think Aberforth might just talk in more riddles than his brother.

"Did you know my mother was a master swordswoman? Just as I was before my Sight took my eyes. My brother was also instructed in the art although he never quite took to it. My nephew had the potential to become one as well before he was killed in the Helix Vampire War. The Arms of Gryffindor fell dormant that day. The enchantment's laid down upon this line fell into disuse as year after year my family died for one reason or another. Before I leave this plane it falls upon me to guide the next whom the Lions favor."

Already pale skin turned milky white as Harry stared with horrid fascination into the pale eyes of Aberforth. Reflexively his hand clutched a jagged scar that had fated to a silvery line located at the crook of his elbow. Like most scars on his body few had ever seen it though it was certainly one of his most interesting ones.

Few humans live through seeing a basilisk much less its venom. It was miracle enough his blood didn't kill him when the basilisk venom and phoenix tears neutralized each other. He remembered those last seconds of his life as his lungs struggled to breath. Ginny's frightened brown eyes stared at him sorrowfully and the dim torches lit the length of a silvery sword—the name Gryffindor glinted oddly.

"No…oh no…"Harry whispered.

"Oh yes." crackled the Lord of Gryffindor. "The Lion blesses those worthy of carrying its legacy. A son of dragons and kings, a son of wind, and finally a son of war and ravens."

"I was only twelve!" Harry blurted out, a touch of hysteria in his voice.

"But what other twelve year old could have pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from its Keeper?"

He wordlessly stared at the old man—not sure what he was supposed to think.

"How long has the sword been in that hat?" he finally asked faintly.

"Near seventy years—since my second cousin Johan Wesley died. Logically I should have given the sword to Albus—he eventually convinced me he was the best one to protect it. However he forgot he was not the only Dumbledore. I gave it to him for safekeeping; it has remained in his presence for all that time and not once has he been able to touch it. At least not once without the chosen Heir's help."

"Why is this so important?"

Aberforth laughed merrily.

"Because the Heir of Gryffindor has his own part to play. What do you think Albus will do the moment he has the sword in his hands? This war will be pushed to a height unseen. The Heir of Slytherin and the Heir of Gryffindor can never meet in battle less war is unleashed between brother and brother, father and son, and mother and daughter."

"Then what foolishness could have possessed you to offer me that position? Do you know what trouble you make by doing so?"

"Not really and I don't want to know. I don't know if you understand the importance the Founders play in our society. It is something so ingrained in the wizard-born that we sometimes fail to explain to those newly magical. The Founders mark the Wizarding World's modern history. Before them the Great Families ruled their own and kept to themselves. With the introduction of Hogwarts for the first time the wizards could freely exchange information. Of course change didn't come easily but it was the Four Founders and their descendants the ones that guided the wizarding-kind from scattered enclaves to today's world. If you think the reverence shown my brother is bothersome you have no idea the type of hysteria the Founding Families dealt with."

Harry really wished Binns had taught something else besides goblin wars.

"The Dark One has already been named the Heir to the Slytherin legacy. If a true Heir of Gryffindor were to rise to face him in battle nothing but blood would be gained. My brother is not fool enough or wise enough to ignore the boon he would gain if he were to wield the sword or if he were to gift it to an avatar to wield it for him." A sly smile crept on the old man's face leaving no doubt who this 'avatar' would be.

The two fell into silence; a passing cloud obscured the faint moonlight

"You know….in your own way you are as tricky as the Headmaster. What choices to you give me? I either take the sword or wait till the sword is given to me….I don't even _like_ swords." Harry was slightly embarrassed when his voice fell into a distinct whine.

"Everything is a symbol young Potter." The man almost muttered in exasperation. "Now, enough of this, will you become Heir to Gryffindor?"

"Ah…one last question...does the Headmaster understand the significance of pulling the sword from the hat?"

"To an extent. That the sword came to your aid means little besides confirming you are a worthy Heir though I imagine he thought you were to be his Heir. If you take the Family Ring from me Gryffindor will mark you as its Heir. The blood of Gryffindor no longer lives but the enchantments present allow its magical legacy to continue. Whether or not Gryffindor will live past this war is now up to you."

"Right. No pressure mate." Harry muttered to himself. "Times where you pulled rabbits from hats…"

"Rabbits?" Aberforth asked confused.

"Eh…never mind. I …a-accept the responsibilities and duties of the Gryffindor legacy."

"Come now young Potter, no need to sound so glum."

Harry just shot him an incredulous glance. Though he supposed it was awfully brilliant being the Heir of Gryffindor.

Aberforth crackled and Harry was left to wonder why.

**S**

Harry swerved to the left as a bludger with homicidal intentions aimed for his head. Below him Ron shouted at the Beater Allenmere to protect the Seeker. With his trademark impatience Ron flitted from side to side at his end of the field. Near the center field Ginny slammed the Quaffle to her partner, fourth-year Wendy Cornell, who passed it to third-year Edward Wood (a cousin of Oliver's if he was to be believed). It was a great pass however the reserve team had enough talent to steal the Quaffle from the trio.

Lazily Harry pulled his broom back as another bludger buzzed uncomfortably close to him. Chasing it Allenmere slammed it back to level field were his partner promptly hit it toward the opposition.

Keeping one eye on the Snitch that hovered near Ron, Harry flew in wide arcs around his teammates. No doubt they would appreciate if he would just catch the Snitch already but Ron was cruel enough to say they still had time for another match.

At seven Hufflepuff would show up to boot them from the field. Well, they would be booted as fiercely as any Hufflepuff could boot.

They had been out there since five in the morning. The weather was already uncomfortably close to winter snow. Deciding the match had run long enough Harry flipped in a backwards circle, his knees tightly interlocked to prevent separation from his broom. For a moment Harry experienced vertigo as he fell directly. Ron gave a startled yelp as he leapt to the right, narrowly missing the falling object known as Harry. Pulling up a few feet from the ground he leveled out while holding the Snitch out so his teammates could see. Faintly he couldn't help but think the reserve Seeker needed serious help. The Snitch had hovered around Ron for close to ten minutes before Harry decided to capture it.

"Great Game!" yelled Ron. "Chasers you were a little loose with the Quaffle. Allenmere and Wood can I speak to you for a moment?"

Besides him Ginny landed--her face red from exertion and her breathing still erratic.

"What…was…McGonagall thinking…when she…made him Captain?" She asked helplessly.

"Better not let him hear you or else he'll make you fly twenty laps around the field." laughed Cornell.

"He can't do that…or I'll tell Mum." Ginny answered back smugly.

"Don't test your luck. Hey! Did someone just run out of the Forest?"

Harry glanced back and true enough a figure in a dark blue cloak was racing across the outskirts of the field.

"I don't think now is the time to linger." Harry interrupted the curious Gryffindors. Whistling sharply Harry called Ron's attention away from the two teammates he was lecturing.

"Mate! I don't think now is the best time to hang around the field." Ron gazed at him for a moment before his eyes skirted over to the figure still running. From Harry's position he could hear the redhead sigh heavily.

Strangers never meant good things for Hogwarts. Nearly seven years of schooling had taught him that.

"Everyone! Into the changing rooms. Ginny tell the Hufflepuff girls someone came out of the forest and I'll to the same. Keep your wands near you. You don't want stupidly listed on your headstone." Various Gryffindors scrambled to do just that.

"Wow Ron that was quick thinking." Harry praised.

The redhead blushed lightly while scratching the back of his head.

"Was nut'ing."

Both boys took in the rear of their group. Casually Harry glanced back at the figure that made it to one of the great doors. Distantly he spotted the longhaired figure of Filch. Whoever they were they were expected. There was no other logical explanation why a squib would meet a stranger entering these grounds. Secrecy surely wasn't a factor in this.

Harry sighed before he closed the changing room doors. It wouldn't do to get distracted by everyone else's plots.

**S**

From beneath his lashes Harry cast evaluating glances at the blue cloaked stranger that ate besides the Headmaster. The stranger had arrived two days ago but it was only this morning that Dumbledore returned from the Ministry.

Whatever reason the stranger had for running to Hogwarts was being kept quiet for now. His familiarity with Dumbledore hinted at little since doubtless the Headmaster must have met countless of people in all his years.

His observations were cut short as excited shrieks resounded in the Great Hall.

The morning owls had just arrived.

Harry quickly found out the reason for all the excitement was due to half-a-dozen snowy white birds that fluttered to various people in the Great Hall—a thick parchment rolled up near their claws.

To his surprise one such bird landed near his morning porridge. Another perched precariously near Neville who traded nervous glances with the bird.

"I don't believe it!" shrieked the resident bookworm, Hermione Granger.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at the girl.

"Honestly Harry, the _niveus basilice_ is registered as listed as endangered internationally. It is illegal for anyone save the ruling authorities to possess one. The _niveus_ was most commonly used as messenger to the Great Families. I never thought I would ever see one. They haven't been used in years…I wonder what could have made them to so."

Harry returned his attention to the bird which was sporting a wicked beak. Besides him Neville was literally petrified of taking the parchment from the creature. The fact that it was digging dangerously long claws into the table didn't reassure the Gryffindor.

Slowly Harry extended his hand to the bird all too aware of what damage those claws could inflict. Much to his relief he was able to dislodge the parchment. The bird gave him a disdainful chirp.

Down the table Neville was inching away from the creature.

"For Merlin's sake! Here I'll to it!" Ron said as he shot forward, eyes intent on the bird.

"Ron! No!" shrieked Hermione while digging her own nails into the closest surface—which just happened to be Harry.

Ron never heard her protests and a second later he was dancing away from the creature, a bloody palm cradled near his chest.

"Ron the _niveus_ has been called the Red Claws in certain regions because of the violent behavior they display when someone tries to take their message."

"Lot good it does me now." Ron retorted with a touch of sarcasm. "It's up to you now Neville."

"And you want me to get it?" squeaked the boy.

"It shouldn't harm you Neville. The message is for you after all." Reassured Hermione as Neville slowly inched back to the bird.

"Shouldn't?" Harry whispered to her.

"Well...It shouldn't but all the books I've read have always said they're very temperamental creatures." She whispered back to him.

It was a good thing Neville never heard their whispered conversation or he might still be trying to get the parchment long after everyone had left. Neville was as brave as any Gryffindor when it mattered but he had enough sensibilities left to avoid the hair-brained adventures Harry always seemed to fall into.

The parchment was rolled up much like a scroll would be and Harry realized that even in the Wizarding World that method was archaic. A large golden seal was clearly stamped on the parchment. Four interlocking beasts—all of which Harry swore were dragons—were spun around each other while a Latin motto was continuously etched around the dragons _fas est praevaleo fortitudo sapientia clementia_

_By right of power, courage, wisdom, and mercy_

"The Four Guardian Dragons." Hermione whispered near his ear, her voice indicating she was lost in some obscure fact. "The dragons of fire, earth, air, and water. Earth and Air dragons no longer exist. Water dragons can only be found in an enclave somewhere here in Scotland. Fire dragons are the most common—Norbert was of this kind."

Harry really had to wonder where Hermione found all these facts. Breaking the seal he unruffled the parchment; security didn't seem prevailed because after all didn't Neville also receive a similar parchment? Said parchment was already being read as a crowd gathered over Neville's shoulders.

Near his end the crowd wasn't as large but it was there none the less. Few students dared intrude on Harry's space—unfortunately that didn't include the older Gryffindors.

_Harold James Evans Potter_

_Head of the House of Potter_

_Head of the House of Black_

_Your presence is requested at the gathering of the Great Families at Ignis Draconus Keep, Scotland, to be held on the eve of the Winter's Solstice. This invitation is extended to the Head of the Household or an appointed Ambassador and their guest. Confirm attendance with Lady Cox, Cox Manor, England._

_fas est praevaleo fortitudo sapientia clementia_

Glancing at the excited crowd that was tittering around Neville, Harry couldn't help but shutter. Helplessly both boys looked at each, simultaneously mouthing one word to each other with equal looks of horror.

"Dates?" They echoed each other.

Around them girls giggled excitedly and even a few suspicious looking boys looked a bit too interested to dismiss.

In their mist Harry felt the ugly Triwizard section in his mind release suppressed horror.

_Girls_….his mind shuttered pitifully.

**S**

"Harry! Harry!" The voice echoed against the corridors bringing the trio of people walking to a halt. Harry turned to look back. Besides him Ginny and Luna had been chatting a moment before falling silent.

The cause of the commotion suddenly became clear as a figure turned a corner and ungracefully sprawled on the ground.

"Ouch!" The figure who turned out to be Tonks cried. "…Merlin Harry…you are the most difficult person to find. Do you know you have an anti-tracking charm on you?"

"I might but I doubt that is why you were shrieking my name just a moment ago."

Tonks merely huffed indignantly. Carefully she pulled herself up till she was standing level with the teenagers. Harry was startled to realize Tonks was actually several inches taller than him.

"Yes…Message from Dumbledore's office. Pettigrew's been captured! Aurors have finished questioning him. They're asking for you."

Besides him Ginny gasped. One second he was staring incredulously into wide pink eyes and the next his back was sliding against the cold stone wall.

Small fingers brushed his fringe out of his eyes. Harry couldn't quite hide the flinch he felt at the physical contact. He followed the hands touching him and met the concerned eyes of the youngest Weasley child. Blushing slightly at her daring Ginny nervously pulled back her hands but didn't move away.

"Harry are you alright?"

Harry took the opportunity to glance behind Ginny at the other two females. Luna stood serenely gazing out a nearby window while Tonks stared anxiously down at Harry.

It seemed unreal. Peter Pettigrew was the type of coward that should have outlived all of them. Betrayer of the Potters and Sirius, Servant of Voldemort, and all around general coward.

"Wh-why are they calling for me?" Harry managed to ask Tonks.

"They're going to sentence him."

"Oh." He said numbly.

He wasn't sure what he felt right then. Of course he wished Peter Pettigrew would die many times and Pettigrew had been the direct cause to most of his misery. Pettigrew had been the idiot to give rise to Voldemort a second time not to mention he betrayed his parents and godfather. He searched his heart for a moment and found no shred of sympathy that had survived from his third year. The rat would die. Fudge wasn't as secure as to let his blunder live. If he wasn't dead by week's end Harry already planned to release the story to the press. Pettigrew would die and he deserved nothing more.

"Go back. Pettigrew will die and I don't wish to involve myself further….You might want to inform Remus in any case."

"Harry…Dumbledore asked for you to come." Tonks implored helplessly.

"No…I don't believe I will." Harry said casually as Luna extended her arm to offer him help up. Not to be outdone Ginny took his other arm.

"Harry…we thought you would like to be there for the sentencing."

Harry managed to contain his sneer. He let his voice remain calm as he rebuffed her again.

"Not necessary. I have studies I shouldn't be neglecting."

Tonks and Ginny shared baffled expressions. As contrary as always Luna managed to look disinterested in everything.

"But Harry…Dumbledore's leaving to the Ministry in a few minutes for the sentencing. The Governing Wizengamot is waiting for you two."

"How kind of them but please excuse me to them, will you Tonks? I don't feel the need to devote anymore of my life to that rat."

"Harry…"

Harry's patience wasn't anything to note of and Tonks had already managed to wear it thin.

"Leave it Nymphadora. Return to Dumbledore." He finally snapped.

Tonks gaped for a moment before pulling in her composure. The other two might not have recognized the way he addressed her but Tonks knew when the Lord Black persona surfaced in Harry.

"As you wish my Lord." She said somewhat stiffly before nodding her head at her sovereign and retreating to wherever she came from.

Ginny gazed at him with a clear question in her eyes but she must have felt it wasn't her place to question him.

"Such a tainted soul." Luna murmured. "Pity he isn't what he was anymore."

Harry's lips quirked in understanding. His father's best friend had been Wormtail and that boy died alongside his father. Peter Pettigrew was the celebrated hero that died sixteen years ago. All that was really left was Scabbers, a coward that was nothing but a rat for twelve years.

Besides he wasn't about to go to the spectacle that would no doubt develop at the Ministry. Those that hated Fudge would no doubt herald this blunder wide and far as soon as they heard. Those that wanted Harry's favor would attack the rat as loudly as they could. And of course there were those that just hated Death Eaters on principal.

There was also something Harry had begun to suspect recently, something he wasn't sure he wanted confirmed.

It began with the reasons why a baby would triumph over the Dark Lord. Basically that was the starkest comparison between innocence and corruption. That innocence baby Harry had possessed shielded by 'love' had defeated a murderer bent on domination. Was that why Dumbledore had mistakenly committed act after act in the name of such innocence? If that was true it was conceivable to believe that was the reason Harry had never received much in the way of training and what had been given to him had been purely defensive. Dumbledore believed his 'light'—the light born of justice for his parents and his own childish innocence—was the 'Power' that Voldemort didn't know and in all truth had never known. It was baffling to think Dumbledore might believe in the same innocence the Dursleys had despised. Didn't Dumbledore realize no one that took another life could ever be innocencent? But then again all he really needed to kill was one person. Dumbledore already knew his reluctance to kill. Honestly he couldn't blame Dumbledore for becoming a murderer—that was _his _destiny.

It was one theory that might truly confirm Dumbledore's lack of sanity.

Untill Harry could look at Dumbledore without asking that he needed to stay away from the Headmaster. Else he might end up destroying more than his office. And honestly he thought he was better off not knowing most of reasoning behind Dumbledore's actions. It always managed to enrage him when he did find out.

"Harry…don't you want to see Sirius innocence being proven?" Ginny asked tentatively—breaking his reverie.

"Hmm? Not really." Harry murmured calmly.

Beside him, Luna smiled somewhat vacantly. "To indulge in triumph confirms triumph matters."

Ginny frowned at the two.

"To go and gloat means their thoughts mattered enough to cause me to gloat."

"And they don't matter?" she asked.

"They make it really hard for me to do otherwise." Harry explained, not deigning to comment any further.

Ginny glanced worriedly at Harry under her eyelashes but she could not argue the fact that Harry was not entitled to automatically care for the wizarding public and that included their prejudices. But it made her want to hex all the people who had contributed to destroy the sweet boy that went down into the Chamber of Secrets simply because a silly first-year girl was missing. She wasn't sure if Harry was still the same boy who would have gone to save her. Glancing at the half-smirk on his lips she was hit with the certainty that he would definitely not have done it for the same reasons.

**S**

Tonks huffed indignantly as she marched back to Dumbledore's office. She _knew_ she was not the best choice to collect Harry. She might be an Auror but Merlin forbid they ever order her to stand against her Lord. He was the living legacy of the Black Family, the guardian of her heritage, the keeper of that part of Tonks she had been denied for most of her life.

She loved her father dearly but some part of her had always longed to be part of something greater. It was why she joined the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix (at least partially—there was the whole evil to trounce bit), but neither were as personal to her as being a part of the Black family—one of the few Harry acknowledged in good standing and hopefully one of the few Harry would not see dead before this war ended.

In Dumbledore's office Professors McGonagall and Snape waited alongside the Headmaster and her partner Kingsley.

McGonagall was the first to ask the question they were all thinking.

"Were is Mr. Potter?" she said as she pursed her lips in annoyance.

Tonks coughed nervously.

"We'll…you see…I don't think Harry's all that keen on going. In fact…he told me he wasn't interested."

Fortunately for everyone Snape kept his comments to himself though the sneer he wore said more than enough.

"Are you sure he is thus inclined? I would feel it better for young Harry to come to terms with his parents' betrayer."

"Naw…sir…I really don't think Harry wants to come."

"Honestly woman." Snape finally snapped. "You call yourself an Auror when you can't even make an egotistical child come when he is called."

Tonks narrowed her eyes at her former Professor.

"None of you seem to understand the position you put me in and of all here I'm the only half-blood. I am Nymphadora Black Tonks, daughter of Andromeda Black Tonks, and if my Lord wills me away I must do as he wishes." Judging by their faces Tonks realized none had considered that.

"Honestly…." She muttered in exasperation. "Come on Kingsley, duty calls."

She continued on her way to the fireplace. Everyone there had certainly cared about Harry's inheritance yet they all conveniently forgot the power that came with it.

**S**

**AN: Hello all! I hope no one thinks I'll give up on this fic…I'll just sometimes be very bad on updating . Okay because everyone seems to always be nice on answering my questions….were are all you from?( my curiousity). To start off I'm from California, USA.**

_Guess the enclave in Scotland for the water dragons? _

_Guess the first person to pull the sword after the end of the true Gryffindors?( and it wasn't from a hat)  
'Son of kings and dragons'_

**Beta guess:** Myrridn's Cavern? (Knows nothing about Scotland except for the bit of research done on the

Review!...Why is it that I get more than a 100 reviews for this chapter but less than 10 for chapter four?...thats just me wondering about the stats….

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	20. Web of Life

**Beta**: ak-alterego

**Web of Life**

A shaft of light trailed lazily through the open window. The room that normally housed five adolescent males was strangely silent except for the light breathing of the figure on the bed closest to the window. The boy's back was pressed against his headboard while the bedside curtains conveniently threw his pale features into shadows.

The afternoon sunlight steadily grew longer as the day wore on but not once did the boy's attention waiver from the object on his bedspread.

A thick gold ring twinkled innocently back at him. The once bright gold had faded to a bitter sort of yellow though the blood-red stone glowed with the same strength as it did more than a thousand years ago. Its ruby facet was etched with the seal of Gryffindor—a lion and lioness intertwined. Countless hands had touched that ring, worn that ring, and consequently ruled one of the greatest wizarding families.

_Typical brash Gryffindors_, Harry scowled down at the ring. Only the Gryffindor line could have managed to die out in such frustrating stands of morals or magic.

The current Head of the Family might still live and though Harry was a shoddy Seer he saw clearly enough Aberforth would die within a year. For all his mad crackling there was something brittle about the old man. The Dumbledore line was nearing its end. During their brief meeting Harry sensed the old man had been terrified of passing his Sight to any child of his. Albus on the other hand Harry suspected wouldn't survive this Dark Lord.

Harry James Potter would officially become the fourth Family to hold the Gryffindor heritage.

Long fingers idly trailed the slightly swollen scab on his palm. Aberforth had done a hasty adoption ritual to bind Harry all that more tightly to the magical heritage of Gryffindor. Because Harry had almost completed his magical and physical development he would theoretically gain very little from the Gryffindor's magical heritage. It would be his children who would bear the full claim on the Gryffindor legacy. Surprisingly the magical adoption was simple enough—it was an exchange of magic in what Harry realized was the refined form of his deadly claim on Slytherin.

Blankly Harry stared at the ring. _Heir of the Lions_. It glowed faintly red and Harry could almost imagine Voldemort staring back at him.

The world was full of idiots he couldn't help but think. It was all too simple really. British Wizards spent seven formative years being indoctrinated themselves to such a point that subconsciously they would always refer to themselves in someway by their House. If the Lord of Gryffindor was to ever reveal himself and call Gryffindors to arms Harry had no doubt he would be answered. A gaggle of dunderheads would continue to live up to their _courageous_ title and how easily the Lord of Slytherin could have done the same, had done the same if rumors of the number of Slytherin in his ranks was true. And finally, how utterly brilliant for both lines to name the same person as their Heir.

The ruby stone winked back at him.

S 

"L-leave m-me alone!" Neville whimpered.

Normally Harry would never have hesitated to help his friend but he had recently discovered there were some things even he wouldn't do.

"Harry", whispered Ron next to him, "aren't you going to help him?"

Harry merely gave him an incredulous look.

"Me? Why don't you go?" protested Harry in an equally soft voice.

Ron craned his neck around the corner they were hiding in. Just as quickly he pulled back. Nervously he scratched his head.

"Mate they look vicious."

"They don't just look it." Remarked Harry as he gingerly rubbed a good-sized bruise he'd earned earlier when he had the misfortune of being cornered in the Greenhouse.

"Let me see?" Ron asked as he noticed what Harry was doing.

Shrugging the boy in question pulled up his sleeve.

Ron whistled softly in appreciating.

A particularly wicked bruise lined the area from the top of his shoulder all the way down to his elbow.

Ron poked it and Harry hissed.

"Does it hurt?" asked the redhead.

"Only when I touch it." Harry bit out.

Poke.

"Ron!"

"Shush!" Ron reprimanded—a little late.

Both boys stilled.

"Potter?" a female voice called out.

"Oi! Harry!" another high-pitched voice giggled.

"Harry!" called out Neville—his voice clearly transmitting his harassment. "Help me!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

Ron shook his head helplessly. "We wont make it."

"I know you can handle it Nev." Harry called out just as a figure poked around the corner they were hiding in. Dimly Harry recognized it as a particularly tall sixth-year Ravenclaw girl.

"Run!" Ron yelped as his own legs sprang from their hiding place. A second later Harry was running alongside the gangly youth—echoes of his name following him.

Around corners and under secret tapestries they ran. Through a door that was pretending to be a wall and a gargoyle that had to be tapped twice behind the knee. They stumbled from a shifting wall into an empty hallway. Both boys leaned against the opposite wall as they came to a halt.

Breathing heavily Ron asked, "You think we lost them?"

Wearily Harry slid down the wall. "I hope so. Poor Neville."

"Poor bloke." agreed his best-friend. "He'll never escape."

"I've already been dented once by the bloody banshees today. Not even for Neville am I going back to face them. Those were Ravenclaws back there—plenty smart to concoct something devious. By Circe it was a group of Hufflepuffs that banged me up."

"Who'd have thought girls could be so bloody vicious?" Ron asked idly.

"Who would have thought indeed." Interrupted a silky smooth voice.

In an impressive move Ron sprang up even as his wand sprang to his palm. Harry merely watched with interest as he tilted his head to the newcomer.

"You've been practicing mate?" Harry asked genuinely impressed. He would have never thought Ron had the initiative to learn. Just went to show you.

Sensing no danger Ron lowered his wand while smiling in embarrassment at the impressed looks he was receiving.

"A bit."

His smile disappeared as he remembered their company and the Slytherin badge said company was wearing.

"Care to introduce us?" drawled the Slytherin.

"Ron, this is Theodore Nott. Theodore this Ron Weasley."

For a minute the three boys were surrounded by an awkward silence.

"Pleased to meet you." Theodore said smoothly—his public face cultivated to perfection.

"Yeah." Ron muttered suspiciously.

"What were you running from anyway?" Theodore finally asked Harry with true curiosity.

Harry grimaced. "A terrible, fierce horde the like few have escaped from—Hogwarts' girls."

Theodore hummed his understanding. "Really Po-Harry, you should have done like I did."

"And that is?"

"Find someone else to beat the horde back. Daphne Greengrass has been particularly violent to those who have thought they were going to the Winter Solstice Ball—especially with me."

"Isn't that the girl you're supposed to marry?" Harry asked blandly.

Theodore raised an eyebrow in interest. His look seemed to say one thing: _How exactly to you know that?_

"So my mother hopes."

Ron gave him an odd glance. "Don't you like the girl?"

Theodore merely shrugged. For a moment it looked like he wasn't going to respond but after a sidelong look around the empty corridor he did.

"Daphne is just Daphne. My mother and her's were best-friends and they both hope we'll fall madly in love and have enough grand-children to make them happy for the next hundred years."

"How's that plan working out so far?" Harry asked.

Theodore leaned against the wall.

"It's developed a few glitches here and there. Daphne and I were practically raised together. It's hard to fall in love with someone you used to think as a sister but we get along well enough and it isn't like this plan is a surprise. Her mother isn't exactly what I would call discreet."

"What does Greengrass think?" Harry had a mental image of Pansy the Pug clinging to Draco Malfoy.

Theodore must have read what he was thinking because the boy smirked in amusement.

"Nothing like Parkinson and Malfoy. Then again Daphne doesn't have the kind of pressure Parkinson does."

Despite himself Ron couldn't help but be interested. Politics could be dead boring but this was bordering the line into gossip.

"What?" Ron blurted before blushing slightly.

Harry shot his best-friend an amused grin.

"Pansy's father is rich enough but neither of her parents belong to the Great Families. Her father's Heir already has a brat of his own and she's the only other child. If she doesn't find an impressive enough husband on her own she'll find herself married off to the best husband her father's money can buy."

Theodore simply smiled as Harry bluntly laid out Pansy Parkinson's troubles for the last seven years.

Seeing as how both noble boys seemed willing to answer his questions Ron couldn't help but indulge in some interesting gossip.

"Doesn't that seem a little harsh?"

"Not really." Theodore answered. "Her value as a Parkinson Heir has been severely reduced ever since her brother had his own Heir. The family's heavily involved in magical shipping and they could use whatever influence they could get within the Wizengamot. If she doesn't find a husband from within the Great Families on her own her father will and he'll mostly get her some old windbag."

On reflection it seemed odd that for the first time Harry knew something his pureblooded friend didn't about Wizarding culture. It had been the other way around for so long. Then again Harry had already recognized and accepted the consequences of having a best-mate who would have never been expected to fall into high society.

"And Greengrass?" Ron asked. Harry paid attention as well. The only reason he knew so much about the Parkinson's was because the family had continuously sited with Voldemort and Harry figured it best to know what resources the Dark Lord could readily call upon. Greengrass on the other hand was a solid neutral family for generations.

"Greengrass isn't a Great Family either but they have a strong enough heritage and enough resources they aren't troubled. Daphne is the third daughter and her eldest brother is slated to marry next fall. Her marriage isn't that great of importance."

"Still sounds bloody harsh. Isn't that a lot of pressure?" Ron asked. Harry silently agreed. Neither Harry nor Ron had been raised to view marriage as a bargaining chip although Harry _should_ have come to think of it that way. Harry knew enough to have promised himself he would never sell his bedside. He'd been miserable for most of his childhood, he wasn't about to risk the same for any family life he might indulge in.

Besides if the Heir of five baffling Families truly needed allies enough to marry for them he shouldn't be dealing in politics to begin with.

"Perhaps." Theodore answered Ron, both boys steadily growing more comfortable with each other as they apparently bonded over a staple of life—gossip. "It's always been that way for me so I guess I don't see it as anything big. Personally any pressure I face against I mostly bring upon myself. My father's no longer around to arrange these kind of things and my mother doesn't have any other power besides persuasion. I have a little brother so there's no hurry. Harry here's the one that should really have more pressure than me."

Harry suddenly found himself under the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes.

"I suppose so." Harry slowly answered. "But who exactly is around to pressure me? I'm the last of the Potter's and most of the Blacks are as keen for me to reproduce as they are for me to live."

Theodore studied Harry for a moment before he idly commented. "There's some that might think your marriage was up for barter."

Harry glanced sharply at the pale-eyed boy before his head slid back with a dull thump as he closed his eyes wearily. Ron thankfully knew better than to ask his question out loud. One look from viridian eyes and he could clearly read the familiar weariness that always seemed to descent on Harry when he thought about their mutual Headmaster.

Would Dumbledore really offer Harry's name? He didn't even have to promise anything just as long as the possibility of becoming allied with a Double Heir to the Great Families would call the hearts of more than one wavering family to the Light side. It didn't help that despite Harry's maneuvering he was still wildly believed to be behind Dumbledore and as his 'council' Harry was expected to listen to what the old man said above all else.

He really wondered where people developed the notion they shared a grandfather-like relationship.  
"We'll have to see about that."

Theodore nodded as he expected nothing else but otherwise didn't contribute anything further.

"So who are you taking?" Theodore finally asked.

Harry smiled as he pushed the troubling news from his mind.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"Harry…" the redhead whined. "I'm not even going to that Ball."

Harry merely padded Ron with mock sympathy. "Tough luck mate."

"You realize girls are going to be hanging around you till they know you're taken?" Ron asked rhetorically.

"I think I can handle them…at the very least I can outrun them."

"Your date better be worth it."

"Who else is going from Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously. He hadn't exactly paid attention to the other recipients of the letter.

"Us of course. Daphne will be coming with me, Longbottom and whoever corners him, Malfoy and Parkinson—I heard she badgered him into it. From the teachers Dumbledore, Professor Sinastra is going with her son—his wife died five months ago—and the other Heirs, although they'll have to go dateless unless they can manage to get another Heir to accompany them."

"Why do you two get to take a date?"

"Gee Ron…you say that like it's a good thing." Harry said dryly.

"Because we are already the Heads of our Families." Answered Theodore.

"This is just seems like a bloody convoluted mess." Surmised Ron.

"Yes, that's what I thought too." Harry agreed.

Theodore merely sighed in exasperation.

**S**

"Harry can I talk to you a moment?" The voice was soft and uncertain and surprisingly belonged to one of the most confident witches Harry knew—Hermione Granger.

Harry studied the young witch for a moment. He did have several letters he needed to mail via the nuntius birds but he had been expecting this particular conversation for a while now.

"Of course Hermione. I was on my way to the kitchens…why don't you join me?"

Shooting him a grateful smile the witch silently joined him. Every once in a while Hermione glanced at him with something of a mix between curiosity and uncertainty.

It unsettled Harry to see her so timid but it probably unsettled Hermione to see Harry so much...lighter. As one of the last people Harry drove away back in sixth-year she perhaps realized the full extend of his anger and grief. Harry knew he hurt her but most of the guilt he felt was quickly pushed away when he remembered she hurt him as well.

Back then he didn't want advice or pity—he was too proud and angry to accept either. Hermione never understood that. He couldn't talk of what he had seen and done, the truth becoming lodged in his heart while his mouth could never repeat his secrets. He had never been a creature of trust and after his Godfather died what trust he had carried had wavered.

Everyone had always expected him to get better, to accept his destiny, and to rise to meet it.

Harry couldn't do that.

It was only now that his wounds had begun healing that he realized what he had needed. He needed someone to see how truly screwed he was and accept that Harry might never get better, that he might never heal from death and betrayal. To accept Harry as he was and not as he should be or had been.

As luck would have it Amos had been all that to Harry. The jaded vampire had seen all that immediately though it took the better part of a year for Harry to see and believe that.

His hand might be the only one that could slay Voldemort but with healing he was able to think of what path he would take to get there.

Becoming a Ministry Auror was out of the question—their ranks were too compromised for him to ever trust his superiors much less his partners. Dumbledore would get him killed just the same thought the old man would most likely do that unintentionally. By cultivating a Gryffindor Light wizard his sacrifice was insured. Defecting into Voldemort's ranks and killing him that way would probably succeed but would guarantee the title of the Dark Lord Harry. He might be fated to save the wizards—he wasn't about to ruin himself doing so.

Tickling a pear Harry let Hermione into a private counter. It was right before dinner so the elves were busy preparing a grand feast like every other night. Acquiring some snack from no less than five helpful elves Harry discretely set privacy wards. It never hurt to be paranoid.

Harry idly ate a snack as he waited for the girl to find her tongue.

"What happened?" she finally asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to elaborate.

"Between us, between Ron, to our friendship? We used to be best-friends—the type that knew everything about each other and faced everything together."

He might have expected this conversation but it definitely didn't make it any easier.

"Hermione…we grew up. We grew apart."

"Why?...You and Ron made up, why cant we?" she nearly pleaded.

Harry knew she had waited a long time for answers. "Ron and I rebuilt our friendship," he said slowly. "But that means rebuilding trust. Hermione…last year was awful. I guess you could say I finally broke. You might think I never knew Sirius well enough to mourn him as I did and that is partly true but Sirius and I used each other. We were both something the other had to salvage at any cost. He could have been the closest thing I would have had to a father. He could have been someone I trusted to protect me above all others. He could have been _mine_…and then I lost him. I lost some sanity as well I admit.

"You couldn't have helped me back then because you knew me too well. Everyone that did couldn't have helped because everyone was trying to put me back together as I was. I broke and I had to find a way to patch all the pieces I had back together. I'm not the same person you knew back in first year. I'm not even the same person you knew in fifth year. Ron and I aren't so much repairing our friendship as we are building it anew. He did something that made him place his trust in me even if he didn't understand what I was doing. It took a lot of faith to leap like that."

Even as he was explaining Harry realized the full extend Ron had trusted. For all the redhead knew Harry could have been Voldemort's apprentice.

"What did he do?" Hermione asked, eyes bright with tears she was too proud to shed. "What must I do?"

Looking at her Harry couldn't help but think Hermione was a remarkably loyal friend. So many years she had stayed besides him when it would have been easier and safer to walk away. Some part of him wanted to hug her and tell her he was sorry for being such a prat. However another part in him could only analyze every word, every loyalty, and every argument. Some part of him _didn't_ trust her anymore. He wasn't sure how that came about but he couldn't help but feel cold in the aftermath of that realization.

"He gave me his trust freely."

"I trust you! Why can't we be the friends we were?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably—Hermione's eyes were suspiciously bright and he had never been the best at seeing girls cry.

"I know 'Mione." He said softly. "But your trust is like a mother's trust. You trust me to do certain things, act certain ways but you don't trust my decisions. I don't need a mother. I need a friend, someone who can meet me on equal footing without trying to change who I am."

"I…can do that. I know I am sometimes pushy…but it's hard to stand back and watch something happen that you know you could prevent."

"That's not a bad thing but we were each given a life and we will each lead it the way we see fit. I want to learn to trust you Hermione and I want you to learn to trust me. But you will have to realize many of my decisions will not sit well with you."

"I will Harry." The witch said with the same determination she applied to her studies. "You shouldn't doubt yourself Harry. You have always done the right thing."

Harry's eyebrow twitched. That might not have been the response he was looking for.

"No Hermione. I'm not that person. Sometimes what is right isn't always better. In war some choices only end in death and I cant pretend I can let it be mine own. It was my blood that resurrected Voldemort but it was also my actions that prevented his comeback for a couple a years. We were children protecting a world that remained ignorant. I failed staying his rebirth but there is only so much anyone could have demanded from children. I'm trying to say I can't be the martyr people need. I can't let myself be consumed by so much vengeance that I would lose whatever grasp I have on reality. If that means some people will die then all I can d is bless their passing."

Hermione sat silently as she processed everything Harry had explained. She was smart enough to read between the lines and at least realize Harry wasn't going to follow the expectations placed before him. Unfortunately for her he had been vague enough she couldn't discern anything concrete.

"You are a remarkable friend, probably the best I ever had. I have always been impressed by your morality and sense of justice but now those very traits may kill what friendship we salvage between us. I am neither being melodramatic when I say some of my decisions will very well kill innocent people nor can I say I wish it was my life taken instead of theirs."

Sitting there surrounded by bustling house-elves Hermione had a dreadful inkling Harry had changed tremendously since he went into seclusion. She could still see the awe-filled first-year he had been but now she couldn't help but note Harry truly was...ruthless.

**S**

"Class dismissed. Mr. Potter stay back a moment." McGonagall said managing to sound reprimanding despite the circumstances.

He nodded to Ron and Neville to reassure them as both boys warily left him alone.

Harry slowly packed his texts away as he waited for the class to empty.

"The Headmaster has informed me that your presence is requested tomorrow night at Halber Manor for a meeting between allies and the Order."

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. The Order wasn't known for including outsiders. As far as Harry knew most of them were against including 'children' and all of them were determined to keep Harry out.

So why the change of heart?

"May I ask why?"

The Professor pursed her lips but answered his question to the extent she knew.

"It has to do with his session with Minister Fudge. Other than that I know nothing save that the news is important enough to call those of the Light creed together."

Harry nodded silently even as he contemplated what Dumbledore could have learned in his stay at the Ministry. Fudge and Dumbledore had certainly been consorting more than usual. This either had to do with new legislature Fudge, Dumbledore, or both wanted passed or something to do with the very Ministry itself.

"How am I to get there?" He finally asked.

"Go to the Headmaster's office right after dinner. You will be portkeyed there. The password is lemonheads."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"You are dismissed."

Harry couldn't help but think heads would roll very soon.

**S**

"Wonderful that you could join us my boy." Was the cheerful greeting he found when he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

Harry ignored the old man's endearment despite his urge to correct him. Some battles were better left unfought. Critically he analyzed all the other people in the room: McGonagall, Sinistra, and Snape. McGonagall and Snape he could understand but he had never figured the Astronomy Professor to involve herself with the Order.

Shrugging those thoughts away he warily took an old sock from Dumbledore even as he prepared himself for the distinct sensation of misplacing his stomach.

Halber Manor was an overgrown fortress-like house. It looked like the place was only used irregularly. Furniture was draped in cloths and musty paintings watched the arrivals curiously.

The location had not been chosen to impress was his first thought. His second being that Dumbledore did not trust whoever else was invited to not betray this location. Since it was obvious the place was only used rarely Halber Manor would never be marked as a Light stronghold neither would there be any sign of where the real Headquarters were.

Despite himself Harry found himself recalling what little he knew of Halber Manor. The home had been part of the former Mrs. Dumbledore's inheritance—the late Mrs. Wesley and as such part of the Gryffindor Estate. The musty records Aberforth had shoved into Harry's hands (and which had taken a couple headaches to organize) indicated the home had last been used in the late seventeenth century when a branch of the now extinct Wesley Family took residence and raised kneazles of all things. When the Family began dying out the Manor was eventually abandoned in favor of more modern homes later branches of the Family acquired.

It was slightly callous of him to think that when Aberforth died the Manor would belong to Harry. This odd Wizarding home that smelled of wax and old wine and it might be the only time Harry ever entered the Manor for he certainly didn't plan on returning. He hadn't quite admitted to himself but he was quite uneasy claming all these things people that weren't even dead had entitled him to.

And he was quite certain he didn't want to call any place home that would bring memories of war-time.

Despite it being a small Manor, Halber had a large Great Hall. That room at least had been aired out and furnished to accommodate the group that was gathering even as Harry silently broke away from Dumbledore's group. Glancing back at his Headmaster he realized Snape had also slipped away earlier.

Then again, Harry realized as he studied the crowd, Snape couldn't exactly afford to be seen next to the Greatest Light Wizard of their time by a bunch of people not sworn to secrecy as the Order was.

The crowd was bordering on something over fifty people and about half where Order Members. The rest where some of the most prominent known Light and Neutral wizards around. Studying them Harry couldn't help but notice a significant portion of those present held a vote in the Wizengamot. The Full Council was a little over 220 strong and gathered there where a good chuck of it.

The meeting didn't look like it was about to begin anytime soon so Harry merely hung back into the shadow of a pillar. They might all be against Voldemort here but that didn't mean they were pleasant people to get to know. Besides he wasn't about to be paraded before these people as Dumbledore's Golden 'Double' Heir.

"If you would all find a seat." Dumbledore cheerfully called out. The Hall itself was elongated on one end and comfortably held one long table along its length. The surrounding walls had cleverly been relieved of any seats. Whoever arranged this meeting wanted everyone to be seated on the table in what Harry would guess would dispel detachment from the meeting.

Maybe that's why the teen wizard proceeded to linger against the shadowy wall. It wasn't like he was the only one. He distinctly recognized 'Mad-Eye' Moody near the exit and another figure a good two meters from the paranoid Auror. The fact he was allowed as close to Moody without being cursed meant that Moody trusted that person as much as he could trust anyone.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen. I am honored you could all attend this meeting on such short notice. Many of you have noticed my presence at the Ministry more often recently and less often at Hogwarts. I won't bore you with the trivialities Minister Fudge and I went over. However I thought it prudent to inform you of one of the last matters Minister Fudge brought to my attention.

"As all of you are no doubt aware of Voldemort has successfully infiltrated many layers of our Ministry. His influence was allowed to grow at a time it should never have been possible. Their meddling has brought dishonor on those charged with guarding our Ministry and grief to those who trusted it. But we must remember we are human and it is our way to err but never the less mistakes were made that we are now given an opportunity to correct.

"Cornelius Fudge will announce his retirement in the next Wizengamot Council meeting." Dumbledore said in the sudden silence. More than one wizard present dropped their jaw in surprise. Harry himself was petty enough to feel the sudden urge to sing a victory song. He felt oddly numb—it was strange to think Fudge might have finally done something _right. _Harry suspected news of the Minister's 'activities' was in danger of being released to the public. His Governing Council—who had the power to call a no-confidence vote—must have pressured the Minister to resign in hopes of cutting their own ties with the Minister.

"His replacement will be selected from within the Ministry ranks. Those wishing to run for Minister need to submit their intent before the full Wizengamot and receive five votes of confidence from within the Wizengamot. Our future Minister will serve the rest of Cornelius term and will be named at the Winter Solstice Ball.

"This presents an opportunity to select a Minister more capable of leading the war-time effort, someone that can cleanse the Ministry of Dark influences. I have called you all here to forewarn you and to ask you to support a candidate I believe can lead us in the right direction. With your approval and the welfare of the Wizarding world in mind I present to you Mr. Amos Diggory."

Said man stood to the polite clapping of those present.

From his corner Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. Looking back it was obvious that Fudge had probably been warned he would receive a vote of no confidence if he didn't 'gracefully' resign. Dumbledore didn't waste time scoping out a replacement. The old man had let Fudge into office and the whole world had suffered. No doubt he wouldn't be making that mistake again.

From across the room emerald eyes met the blue eyes of Amos Diggory. Blue eyes chilled and something bordering hate entered their depths.

Just because the world wouldn't suffer didn't mean Harry wouldn't.

Diggory might have loved his only son very much and Harry might have held Cedric in high-esteem but that did not stop the elder Diggory's resentment. Harry was well aware Diggory might be one of the few people that hated Harry for being just Harry. A scrawny fourth-year that lived when his seventh-year son did not. A boy who had failed to save the last Diggory Heir. A child whose mere presence had set off events that let to Cedric's dead. There was no doubt about it.

Amos Diggory hated him.

As Minister, Diggory would have the power to carry out his vendetta against Harry. Something Harry didn't see as such a great idea any time soon. He had no doubt that before the war ended he would have broken some laws. He did not need a vengeful Minister there to throw the courts at him.

Dumbledore was a fool if he thought Harry would support Diggory in the elections.

Then again the Headmaster might not know. Diggory was an excellent politician. It was possible Dumbledore might never have learned to recognize that look in Diggory's eyes. The first time Harry saw it he had no doubt what it was. It was the same look Vernon Dursley would sometimes get, the look that said I would kill you if there weren't so many people watching. The one that said you should never had entered my life and you will leave it one way or another.

Vernon had merely locked him in a cupboard for ten years because he was the unfortunate offspring of a witch. That was simple nameless hate—equally shared between those of his kind.

Diggory hated him for failing Cedric—hate targeted on only one person. He wasn't about to blame himself for Cedric's tragic death. The boy had been a bright kid, a young man who hadn't deserved his end but neither had Harry deserved what happened to him. People certainly grumbled about his participation in the Triwizard Tournament but no one had fought to keep him out of it. No one had stopped to think that there was something odd with this; that it should never had been possible for Harry to become involved. They had practically welcomed the disaster that followed. Harry might have failed to save Cedric but everyone else had failed to save him.

He wasn't going to elect Diggory in some twisted version of atonement. Not if it meant his own Azkaban cell as soon as Voldemort's body was cold.

But how do you outmaneuver a veteran of politics who had spent decades in that field?

**S**

**AN: No worries my faithful followers. World Domination shall yet be mine! **

**Anyway, laying aside my delusions of grandeur I would like to reassure everyone that the next chapter is the culmination of many plot bunnies I've hinted at so far (although no way is this the end) and no it is not anything as obvious as revealing Morrigan. I'd continue this chapter but it's getting long and I'm impatient.**

**By the way I couldn't find a good title for this chapter but considering how bad some titles I've seen you gotta forgive me( or I'll cry…I don't handle rejection well)**

**Free Plot Bunnies: For those that think I haven't made Harry fail he will soon enough and action is about to hit the story.**

**Sorry how I treated Hermione but I really don't like to write her…**

**As of tomorrow this story turns AU although since I live in California I admit some parts of the world have already hit Saturday.**

_TRIVIA:_

_Water-dragon enclave is Loch Ness._

'_son of kings and dragons' is King Arthur. ( I just included that fact since I always thought it funny how Arthur pulls a sword from a stone and Harry pulls one from a hat.)_

_**New Questions:** _

_What's everyone's favorite color? (Mine's gold...)_

_Any guesses at who Harry's mystery date is? (Winner(s) will get a plot bunny)_

_Hint: Don't pick the obvious choice._

After reviewing reader's choices i have to say dont pick first or second obvious choices.

REVIEW PEOPLE!

I'm not joking...REVIEW!


	21. Beneath this Wicked Star

Beta: Alter

**Beneath this Wicked Star**

The sound of the Beater's bat making contact with the Bludger resonated along the nearly empty pitch. From the left end of the pitch Ginny pulled down in a spiral, the Quaffle cradled in her hands. Ron's encouragement followed her descent.

Momentarily stopping to watch her fly Harry couldn't help but search her body for any sign of discomfort. Madam Pomfrey had warned Ginny her leg might not be able to handle the strain of Quidditch. After much convincing Ron had grudgedly allowed Ginny to continue her spot as Chaser. So far the redhead had found her knee only ached after any prolonged flight time. She could play but required a day for agitated swelling to fade. There was also the danger that opposing teams might target her leg. All they could do was to wait and see if Ginny was up for the challenge by the time their first match was scheduled.

The luck of the Sorting Hat had determined Gryffindor would be the last team to have their first match—in fact it wouldn't take place till the end of November.

Harry pulled his Comet 520 upwards, the sound of his teammates yells following him as he pushed his broom as high as he could go before he had to level out. The air was cold in his lungs and made breathing slightly difficult. Ignoring his lightheadedness he pulled down.

From his position Harry could see the stone turrets of Hogwarts. Off to the side the Forbidden Forest hid itself in ever-present shadows. Even the sun failed to penetrate the dark territory.

Strangely wistful Harry found himself studying different routes that had let over the years to various death-defying adventures. Aragog and his kind were in the West End of the Forest. Hermione had let Umbridge near the South side and into a Centaur lair. He'd never had been sure where exactly Hagrid had taken him during his first-year detention. The Chamber of Secrets opened up near Hogsmeade, the forest having been pushed back after a millennia of civilization.

The Forest as always would remain Forbidden to their human neighbors. The Centaurs, acting as Guardians of the Woods had thoroughly rejected any alliance with him but they had the courtesy to swear they would not align with anyone else. Despite their apparent regard for Aberforth "the Sage" Dumbledore they disliked every other human.

This was not the time to think about that Harry reminded himself. He had a snitch to find.

**S**

"HARRY!" A shriek, a warning, a second too late.

A sharp turn to the left was the only thing that saved him. A wave of violet light sped toward him so fast it ripped the air apart with a wild wail. With a sinking feeling he realized he was an open target in the air—an advantage his attackers were using to it's full extent.

"Land!" hollered Ron far bellow him.

Another wave of violet fire flared toward him. Shifting his body he pulled backwards, the air tugging at his overgrown fringe. A shriek from bellow was the only warning he had of the wicked yellow burst of witchcraft that nearly caught him in its undertow. His broom shuddered between his palms, the enchantments destabilizing in the wake of destructive magic.

So intent on avoiding the trail-end of the yellow comet he never saw the thin strip of ice-blue magic heading toward him with an assassins' precision. It was nearly upon him when he urged his Comet 520 to shoot forward. The collision jarred him nearly off the broom. The resulting explosion as the broom's twigs exploded in blue-flames did jar him from his seat. Hundreds of feet above ground Harry hung on tightly to a burning broom.

His magical senses expanded to examine the burning wreckage that was quickly becoming his broom. The charms were deteriorating rapidly. Already the broom was spiraling downward. Airborne sparks fluttered stinging his unprotected hands and head. He was too high up to even hope to survive the fall. His teammates had long fled to the ground. Another flare of violet light ripped bellow him, effectively warning his friends against rescue.

Frantically Harry tried to find a way out of this mess. Unfortunately his time was up. With a fiery-blast the enchantments on his broom failed completely. The resulting explosion burned his unprotected knuckles. The next thing he knew he was falling, the wind whipping his robes around his body. The air screamed into his ears and stung his eyes. Worn frames were ripped from his face. Not like it made any difference—the world had faded into a kaleidoscope of shapes. Even as the ground rose to meet him Harry pulled out his wand.

He was a _wizard_ By Circe! He was not going to die like this, especially if it meant he wasn't taking anyone with him.

His wand was grasped tightly in his hand and he almost groaned when he realized he knew of no spell that would save him. So much for seven years of schooling he thought somewhat snidely.

Instead he brought his other hand before him, blood from various wounds coating it bright red. He needed something to break his fall. He needed something to catch him.

Maybe it was better he had so little time to analyze his plan. It seemed somewhat…stupid on reflection. Luckily for him he did not indulged in such analysis.

One second the flares of enemy spells lit the pitch and the next a roaring column of _Black Flame_ rose to meet him.

Too many conventional spells would have wounded him just as bad as if his face had collided with the ground. Black Flame hopefully would be the one type of magic he body could handle.

He only had a moment to second-guess himself as his body collided with the column of flame. His breath was stolen immediately as he sunk into the very heart of liquid-like inferno.

It wasn't completely solid mass but the very real flames quickly consumed whatever pocket of air he fell into. So though he might survive the fall he may yet suffocate.

He had never learned to swim but the sensations surrounded him easily reminded him of the one time Dudley had pushed him into a full creek. This was his inferno and dammed he would be if he let it kill him. Coaxing the flames downward so his head might break surface proved to be more difficult than summoning them. The flames greedily danced, and the elemental magic didn't want to be banished.

_His will would not be thwarted_ Harry thought furiously. Even as his lungs burned the column of flame began descending. After what seemed like forever his head broke surface. Greedy gasp for air almost made him dizzy. More gently than before Harry descended to the floor. After an eternity his feet touched blessedly solid ground.

He was tempted to faint but he hadn't completely forgotten the assassins. It was moderately more comfortable being on ground but he was still vulnerable with no cover. Raising his bloody hand he summoned the Black Flame to create a shield even as he threw himself onto the ground.

Where were the professors? For God's sake one of the Quidditch stands was merrily burning. A red burst of light from behind reminded him that his teammates were still out there.

His attackers were well hidden in the fringe of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry couldn't see his attackers nor could he spot any of his targets. As soon as he traced the location of one spell his assassin seemed to shift.

This meant one thing.

_Complete chaos. _

Nothing legal had ever proven to surpass the sheer destructive force of the Black Flame. Flicking his wand back up into his holster Harry pulled up two palms before him. Clasping them once and consequently smearing crimson fluid he concentrating on how it felt to summon the Flame.

Emotions free, wild heart, and racing mind. Flames wild and sweeping, consuming and powerful.

His shield suddenly exploded outward. Nearly seven feet tall the shield expanded in a half circle and with deadly intent it sped toward his assassins. In the blink of an eye all he could see was black flames and burning shrubbery.

It scorched the top of outlying trees and still it did not stop. Even through the haze Harry heard two distinct yelps. His triumph was shadowed by the growing weakness in his limbs. He had never called the Black Flame in such a great quantity and Harry feared he had overexerted himself.

His arms grew heavier by the second and dimly he stared at a drop of red blood that trailed down his wrist and into his robe. His knees gave way and lethargy invaded his bones. He ignored that as best he could as he focused on keeping the Black Flame burning.

Hands crept around his shoulder, familiar and safe he thought distantly. Bright red hair invaded his field of vision before refocusing into a freckled face with bright blue-eyes.

"It's alright. Everything's fine Harry. You can let the flame-thingy go." Ron whispered not quite hiding the tremble in his voice.

Another presence positioned itself in front of him.

"Everything is fine now Mr. Potter. You can calm down." Said a smooth voice Harry was surprised to identify as Professor Flitwick.

Abruptly he stopped feeding his Flame. However it did not end there, he needed to call it back. He couldn't allow the Flame to spring free of his control and invade the forest.

_To me. _His voice echoed in a silence few could hear. Into a realm ruled by the forces of the nature he called and that which was his birthright obeyed. Like a flame extinguished because of lack of air the Black Flame raced back to its origin even as it dwindled.

The moment the last snip of dark fire extinguished Harry sagged into the waiting arms of Ron and Professor Flitwick.

"There, there Mr. Potter. Everything is alright now. The Professors are taking care of everything now." Assured the calm voice of Flitwick. From the corner of his eyes Harry could indeed see various Professors running past him and into the scorched land Harry had given rise to.

With every breath strength returned to sluggish limbs.

"L-let me up." Harry croaked. Shadowy emerald eyes met Flitwick's alert eyes. The former dueling champion studied Harry for a moment before he nodded his acceptance.

Arm slung over Ron's shoulder anchored him in an upright position.

The fight was over. For the first time since what he could safely call an attempted assassination Harry was able to see the damage.

A few trees had lost what foliage they still had. Luckily the fire had swept by so fast come spring most of the greenery would have returned. An area easily over a hundred feet had been scorched as well as a large portion of the pitch. A good quarter of the stands that had been raised for the upcoming game still burned from enemy fire. Professors were joined by official gray-robed Aurors in securing the area. Turning back Harry spotted the pale faces of some of his teammates, their red Gryffindor robes singed and dirty. Halfway between his teammates and him Harry realized with rising dismay was a still figure clothed in dull red robes. Next to the figure Madam Pompey's white robes contrasted greatly to the surrounding destruction.

"Conrad Devanny. Fourth-year." Ron whispered near his ear to the question Harry was too weary to ask. "W-we where going to ground when he was hit. A wicked purple light caught him. I don't know what happened but the next thing I know I'm touching the ground and Devanny is falling. Hit the ground pretty hard. Bastards were still firing so we couldn't stop. I cast the strongest shield I knew and ran for it. Ginny landed too fast, messed her knee. We took cover behind the burning stands—well they weren't burning when we hid behind them. We couldn't see who was firing but we saw the whole sky light up when you were hit. The flame-thingy sprung up and…Harry? Don't ever to that again. You've no idea how terrifying it was for you to fall into that flame. I was sure the bastards had set it up."

"I'll try." Harry assured him.

Ron could only smile weakly.

Both boys fell silent as Madam Pompey unclasped her cloak and pulled it over Devanny.

Besides him Ron whispered somewhat hoarsely. "By Fire, and Well, and Sacred Tree; From Land and Sky, and from the Sea; Gods, Goddesses and Ancestors of old; Guard your passing, rest your soul; Find peace in eternal sleep."

Harry was not familiar with Wizarding funeral rides but he could still remember the words that the Dursley's priest had said right before they were buried.

"Earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace." His voice dry and rough seemed to surround the trio that stood there just observing.

"I HATE YOU!" a girl screamed. The girl in question sprung from the arms of Professor Sinistra. Half-walking half-staggering she raised a dirty tear-stained face toward Harry. The girl only got half-way toward him before she fell. In all that time not once had she stopped her wailing. "He's dead! He's dead! He's DEAD! Conrad's dead. He was coming to my house for winter hols. We were going to find a way to break up his mum and her boyfriend. We were going to plan the best prank ever and get back at Richards and Higgs. We were going prank my older brother." The girl's voice dissolved into incoherent babbling.

Stunned, Ron and Harry could only stare at the girl with growing unease.

"He's dead." The girl wailed. "It's all your fault! They would have never have come if it wasn't for you!" she shrieked all the while glaring hatefully at Harry.

Madam Pompey quickly surrounded the girl as only she could and literately shoved a calming potion down the girl's throat.

"I hate you." The girl muttered weakly as another calming potion met her lips.

Harry studied the girl for a second. Joyce Fairbanks, a half-blood witch from fourth year. A pretty girl with blond hair and soft hazel eyes. She was part of a quartet that included the now deceased Devanny and two other Gryffindors. Harry had noticed them simply because of the mischievous air that was all too reminiscent of the Marauders.

"We should be getting you to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter." Flitwick interrupted them. Harry was startled to realize the girl's tirade that had served to echo throughout his body had only been witnessed by a few people. Off to the side two charred figures were bound and levitated by four stone-faced Aurors.

Slowly Ron proceeded to guide Harry back to Hogwarts, Professor Flitwick at their side but otherwise silent.

"Mate?" Ron asked hesitantly. "You know she's a nutter. She probably doesn't mean anything she said and even if she did it isn't your fault. Not like you were shooting at us. It's those bloody bastards fault."

"Excusing you language Mr. Weasley you are correct. The poor girl is obviously distraught Mr. Potter." Reassured Professor Flitwick. The diminutive Professor seemed to hesitate before continuing. "Did you know I was a champion dueler for many years Mr. Potter? Because of my experience I was granted pseudo Auror status during the war against the Dark Lord Grindlewald and in the end I fought just as fiercely as any man called to the battlefield. It was a terrible war Mr. Potter even compared to other wars. He-who-must-not-be-named has waged a campaign of terror and midnight death but no one can match Grindlewald for the sheer genocide he incited. So many deaths and so much blood I saw…I sometimes still see in my dreams. I saw so many people during those years, people I fought to protect and people I fought to kill. I learned something back then…not everyone can be saved and not everyone can accept that. There were people like Miss Fairbanks and they said much as she said. For a while I believed those people…I felt the weight of their death on my soul and guilt in my hearth.

"Consequently I nearly destroyed myself. Near the end of the war when our captives were being put on trial I realized something. War and justice are disturbingly similar, blind when it suits them and all-knowing at turns.

"It's like that Muggle game 'Spin the Bottle'. The bottle will land on someone and you can't prevent that, can you? In the end all that is really in your power are your own actions. You can step in the game and reduce everyone's risk of being chosen or you can stay behind but never can you completely protect them. It would be arrogant to even think so. The funny thing Mr. Potter", Flitwick said in a somewhat bitter voice. "Those sorts of people are all too often the people who first spin the bottle.

"What I'm trying to say is you aren't God so never believe you can control the fate of others."

They had reached the Hospital Wing. Pausing in front of the doors Harry tentatively set his hand on Flitwick's shoulder. Giving silent thanks to the Professor Harry moved on ahead into the blindingly white room that already had several beds occupied.

"Harry! Ron! Thank Merlin you two are alright." Called out Ginny. She was laid out on one of the beds, her legs propped up carefully in order to avoid jarring her injuries.

"Dear brother, if you ever dump me on first-years again I'll hurt you. I had to calm them and convince them to take me here after reminding them nearly a dozen times how to get here. I think they needed more calming potions than I did."

Harry raised an eyebrow in question before gratefully collapsing on a bed.

"Wu'happened?"

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation even as he moved over to his sister to check her injuries.

"My dear brother", Ginny began sounding highly affronted, "practically sprinted the whole pitch. I swear Ron grew wings…the next thing I know we're bursting into the castle and he finds a pair of Hufflepuffs and orders them to take me to the Hospital Wing, mind you he scares them witless in the meantime. I wait forever here just wondering what is happening. The ground shook you know…I assume it was because of what happened."

"It might have." Harry muttered tiredly. "Tell you after I pass out."

He proceeded to do just that.

Ginny stared at the Boy-Who-Lived somewhat incredulously.

"He never told us!" she realized.

"Trust me…you probably wouldn't have understood anyway. I saw it and I'd be less confused if I hadn't." Ron assured her.

"Well that…is incredibly not helpful." She retorted.

"I suspect so."

**S**

"Mr. Potter? Are you awake?"

Harry resisted the urge to burrow his head under his pillow. The bitter scent of herbs was his first clue that he wasn't in his room. For a second he was truly puzzled why he would be in the Hospital Wing.

And then he remembered.

_--falllingfallingfallingBlackFlameburnlandskyearthonfireConradRonJoyceGinny—_

Harry groaned into his pillow. That was not the best wakeup call ever. Rubbing his eyes tiredly Harry was surprised to find himself still tired.

"Wu' time is it?" Harry croaked through a dry throat. Someone placed a blessedly cool cup into his cups. Thankfully it was nothing more terrifying than water.

"Glad to see you with the living." Said a stuffy voice that had Ministry written all over it.

"Oh stuff it Woltersnoff." Snapped a familiar voice. A gentle hand ran through his hair. "Wotcher Harry…been pulling something mischievous, have you? Gave me quite a scare young man…" sniffed Tonks.

"I'll try Nymphadora—" an indignant sniff "—and not that I don't appreciate you being here but what are you doing here?" Harry asked after finally opening his eyes to see two slightly blurry figures. Bright blue-haired Tonks was near his bedside while another Auror leaned stiffly against the nearest wall, sharp-eyed and stone-faced he seemed uncomfortable and impatient despite training meant to betray nothing.

"About that… I guess you could call us your neighborhood interrogators. Oh Merlin Harry, you've any idea of the ruckus rose when Hogwarts alarms started blasting their mouth off? We come here, the Quidditch pitch is burning, a student is dead, several more are injured, and two of the most notorious assassins on records are unconscious and suffering second-degree burns. Excuse me Harry if I indulged in some well-deserved hysterics."

"Auror Tonks I think you're getting off track. We're here to question Mr. Potter."

"Dolt." Tonks muttered softly enough as not to be heard by her partner.

"If you say so _Emery_. Well Harry I'm Level Two Auror Tonks and this is my partner Level Three Auror _Emery_ Woltersnoff. We've been told to ask you about what happened this morning. So far the Ministry is keeping the story quiet from the public, they've grounded all the owls here at Hogwarts if you can believe it but we wont be able to keep this silent past a day or two and when all hell breaks the Ministry would like to be able to explain what happened. Now Harry…what happened?"

Harry couldn't help but smile wanly at his god-cousin

"That's what we all would like to know. Now I don't mind answering some questions so long as I'm able to ask some questions of my own."

Auror Woltersnoff stone-faced tightened in displeasure. He obviously didn't like Harry's forwardness.

"I don't think you understand the situation Mr. Potter. You are facing a Ministry inquiry on what type of magic you meddled in. The damage incurred to the school in the resulting battle is estimated to reach thousands of galleons. A student is dead Mr. Potter and your role in this mess is coming under question."

Tonks huffed but remained silent.

"Auror Wullsnuff—"

"—Woltersnoff—"

"—I hadn't realized I was facing such charges. Looking at my position it seems unwise to talk to Aurors without my solicitor present. Perhaps you could arrange a meeting? I should be able to schedule one in a week or so."

Woltersnoff's lips thinned even more if possible. There was no way a news blackout could last that long. The news would break before then and the Ministry could not be caught ignorant. Madam Bones had all but threatened him with a demotion if he didn't return with a reasonable explanation. They'd even send clumsy Tonks along with him even though she was a field agent in hopes that Potter would be more at ease.

"Perhaps an informal exchange of information would be more beneficial." Woltersnoff practically spit through clenched lips.

"Feel free to sit down. As you can tell I don't feel it best to move to a different setting."

"Of course Mr. Potter."

Harry let Tonks fluff his pillows as he leaned his back against the headboard.

"Now Harry…care to explain how you flambéed two men?"

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize it Tonks. Witeroff—"

"—Woltersnoff—"

"—I am Sirius Black's son in both the magical and legal meaning of the word. He bound me to his bloodline shortly after I was born and as such I was gifted with attributes that belonged to the Black Family."

"You can't mean what I think you mean Harry." Tonks all but moaned. "It's not possible at such a scale."

"If you two would enlighten me?" Woltersnoff bit out.

"The Black Family has a gift unique to its bloodline. It is commonly called the Black Flame because that is what it essentially is, a black flame summoned. I've never been able to do more than light a candle with the gift but my mum is quite skilled in the art. I've seen her raise flames that can be several feet tall."

"That is basically all I did. Sometime after we begun practice unknown spells were fired into the air. I was higher up so landing proved somewhat more difficult for me. I would assume my attackers switched off when firing based on how often spells were fired. My broom was hit and the enchantments failed. Although I had my wand I knew of no spell that would mimic flight since Apparation was warded against. The closest one was _Wingardium Leviosa_ but since I was falling I had no reference point to anchor myself.

"I needed something to break my fall so I called a column of Black Flame to life. The flame caught me and took me to ground. I was still under fire and I had no clue were the attackers were so I resorted to widespread destruction. If my flame moved quickly enough I knew it would not be life threatening. Not the brightest idea I admit specially since it landed me in the Hospital Wing. The next thing I know the Professors were there and…. that's about it."

"Eeh?…" Tonks. "That was certainly informative. Any questions Woltersnoff?"

"Is there any proof of this 'Black Flame'?"

"You could always have me give you a personal demonstration—"Harry snapped.

"—or you can go to the Department of Mysteries. There is a lot of information documented on such elemental abilities as the Black Flame." Tonks interrupted smoothly. "That is unless you really want a personal demonstration Emery?"

For the first time Woltersnoff appeared to lose some of his composure. Coughing nervously he merely said, "No thanks."

"Proof that you indeed share Mr. Black's blood?"

"The fact I wear his ring and suffer no backlash should be proof enough. The magical enchantments laid out on the ring prevent all but the rightful owner from wearing it. Now…I want to know about my attackers…assassins you said?"

Tonks looked at Woltersnoff expectatively. The man in question was tempted to not answer but one look at the boy made him think he would end up regretting it.

"Reginald Cohen alias Farrow. Wanted by the British Ministry, the American Ministry, the Russian Ministry, and the French Ministry for murder, extortion, assault, impersonating an official, dragon poaching, kidnapping, theft, smuggling, and blood magic. He's been at large since 1978 when he was apprehended in China for three weeks before escaping. Farrow has a reputation in less than savory circles as a one of the best assassins and consequently one of the most expensive. From what the Department of Magical Law has been able to determine Farrow has had little dealings within the British Isles since the assassination of Hughes and Olivia Thorn in 1987, a murder he is the prime suspect in.

"Next is Eamus Faa suspected to origin from one of the Gypsy Clans the Dark Lord Grindlewald destroyed. He sports a similar record as Farrow although he's only been charged with murder, impersonating an official, and smuggling. The Russian Ministry is particularly keen on bringing him to trial after the murder of Representative Gavrill Davydosa of the International Confederation of Wizards. Mr. Faa also holds a particularly notorious reputation as an assassin.

"Both are currently sedated and heavily guarded awaiting decisions pending where they will be tried at and of course what charges you yourself wish to file against them."

"You made more than one Auror swallow their tongue those two fellows were identified." Tonks discreetly informed him.

"So…someone with money hired those two charming fellows. Lovely…." Harry couldn't help but mutter. "Winkerliff—"

"—Woltersnoff—"

"—I think these are all the questions I am willing to answer without a solicitor present. I believe you have all the information needed to explain the events of this morning—this day does just wont end—and I will be sure to contact the Ministry later on to file the appropriate paperwork.

"It was lovely seeing you again Tonks and it was nice meeting you as well Auror Wontleiff—"

"—Wolter…never mind, I give up." Said the Auror before he shook his head weakly and walked out of Harry's private room.

Tonks erupted in giggles she had been suppressing for quite a while.

"Brilliant Harry, he's a complete prick. Usually I never see him because he has a desk job but this sort of thing falls under his duties. By the way your Winter Ball date told me to give you her best. I hope you two have fun and just so you know I'll be part of Security that night. Go back to sleep." Tonks said brightly as she _tweaked_ his nose and followed her partner out of the room.

Harry stared at her disappearing figure for a moment before he decided this day had gone on long enough. Pulling the covers over his head he promptly decided to pass out once more.

**S**

"—_Hogwarts…two…fire…Ministry—"_

"_---dead…dormant poison…Farrow questioned—"_

Harry turned uneasily in sleep. Whispers invaded his unconscious mind but frankly all he wanted was the sweet oblivion of sleep.

"_Who ordered—"_

Rage. Displeasure.

**_His will would not be thwarted._**

Harry moaned his distress. Had anyone been in the Hospital Wing at that hour no doubt he would have been woken from restless dreams. Unfortunately for him Madam Pompey had called it a night two hours ago when Miss Fairbanks was doused with another sleeping potion. Mr. Devanny's parents did not need the young girl's hysterics when they came to collect their son. Plus for safety's sake he had been moved to a private room.

Harry fell to his knees. His breath was expelled by the sudden jar to his body. Quickly he sprung back, crouching, his wrist flicked back to release his wand.

His fingers clamped on air. Pushing back his sleeves his eyes were met with an unarmed forearm. Harry didn't let that detour him, his fingers flew up to his upper arm were a gauntlet hid a Muggle dagger.

_Not good._

Harry took a quick survey of his surroundings. So far he was alone in what looked like a study. The only light he could see was from a low-lit fireplace. A neat desk had a scattering of objects that reminded Harry strangely of the Headmaster's office. The walls were lined with books of every size and shape.

Much to his confusion he realized there were no doors.

An attempt at apparation left him feeling drained and disordered. That might not have been a good idea he thought woozily.

"I would not do that again Mr. Potter." The voice was cultured and cold, and Harry just happened to know it as well as his own.

"Voldemort." Harry said simply. It wasn't a greeting exactly but neither was it filled with the usual fright one felt when meeting the Dark Lord himself.

"Do sit down Mr. Potter." Voldemort invited as he sat behind the lone desk. Harry carefully sat down in a chair that he _knew_ had not been there during his original inspection.

"Where are we?"

"It seems neither of us was able to occlude our emotions. The strength of our emotions tore the barriers between our minds and you my Heir have been pulled into my mind."

At least that explained everything Harry thought somewhat helplessly. It also gave rise to a whole new set of problems. Minds were tricky business to meddle in. For those trapped in a Master Occlumencer's mind it was all too simple to activate defensive mechanisms that could easily leave one trapped in mental walls.

Much as he was trapped in Voldemort's mind right now. It was no coincidence Harry found himself in a door-less room. Luckily Harry was powerful enough that even if he couldn't break free he should be able to incapacitate the Dark Lord if things should turn for the worse.

"I understand why I'm…emotional," Harry curled his lip in distaste, "but what's gone wrong in your life?"

"Foolish boy." The Dark Lord hissed. For the first time since Harry had fallen under a truce he witnessed Voldemort's terrible anger. "Have you learned nothing in all this time?"

Harry couldn't help but recoil from his rage.

"Are you truly an incompetent simpleminded child? Sixteen years ago that thrice-dammed curse bound our lives together. Two years ago your blood strengthened the connection between us. When I feel rage you feel the echoes of my anger. When you feel anger I sense it. Our minds have become connected together and should one of us die do not think the other will not suffer in the bonds destruction."

Harry stiffened. When he spoke his voice came out emotionless, his face a mask of everything he was.

"Is that why you made me your Heir?" Harry asked never once looking away from crimson eyes.

The serpentine face lost its anger as something akin to understanding flashed briefly before settling into a mask of his own.

"No Harry…that is not why. I believe in fate too much, as do you. One way or another I know you will find your way into the Final Battle and as my Heir, I can only win."

"I have never said I would fight for you." Harry said warily all too aware of the dangerous present in Voldemort's mind.

The Dark Lord smiled. Not the most pleasant sight ever.

"I've never believed you would to be honest. But my Heir, Slytherin will always win. If you should side against me then either I as Lord live on or a worthy Heir will succeed me."

"That sounds like you doubt yourself." Harry mocked trying to understand why he felt so relieved upon hearing Voldemort's answer.

"Never." Hissed the older man. "But I am Slytherin and Slytherin's always win."

Harry couldn't hide a smirk of amusement.

"At least I now know you weren't the one to order the assassination."

"My Heir, what little faith you have in me."

"Do you know who did?" Harry asked tentatively. Voldemort had enough spies to have access to the type of classified information no one would tell Harry.

"As much as it displeases me I don't, the gypsy mudblood had injected himself with poison prior his mission. Had he not been able to return and take the antidote he assured no one would force him to reveal his secrets. He died approximately five hours after capture."

"And the other?"

"The other…" Voldemort's voice dropped in displeasure. "The other took no such precautions; he was arrogant enough to believe he would never be captured. Unfortunately for him someone else did no such thing. 'Farrow' was assassinated seven hours after capture having never regained conscious."

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. He did not like it that both were dead, they had been the only lead to whomever had ordered the hit. Whoever that was had just proven not only did they have money but they had spies within the Ministry's so called 'restricted' areas.

"Unfortunately for me anyone from a silent Death Eater supporter to vengeful Fudge could have hired them. I doubt they'll tell me anything more than what I've managed to drag out of my interrogator."

"Know this my Heir, none that call me Master ordered this. They know your life belongs to me."

Harry smiled sardonically not at all frightened, disturbed perhaps but not frightened.

It was destiny.

"Now…_leave my mind._"

**S**

Harry woke with a gasp.

False dawn lightened the sky outside his room. Except for his harsh breathing the room was silent.

_He did not need this_.

His head was beginning to merrily pound and the Wizengamot meeting would be today and by the Dark King he was not going to miss Fudge publicly announce his resignation.

If he managed to have any luck at all he would be able to sleep for an hour or two more.

Things could not keep screwing him over.

**S**

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey's shriek could be heard echoing throughout the Hospital Wing and into the corridors.

Somewhere near the Great Hall Harry smiled. There had yet to be a man that could withstand Madam Pomfrey's coddling. Harry had chosen not to fight battles he knew he had little chance of winning.

The Gryffindor dorms were still empty. Up in his dorm room three of the five beds still housed their occupants. Knowing Neville the boy had been up since dawn.

Harry confidently went to his truck. Only something care of the Weasley twins would wake this sleeping trio. Pulling his Family robes from his trunk he also retrieved a plain wooden box the type someone would have made in shop class.

Dudley had made it years ago at Smelting. The box wasn't all that neat but Harry couldn't muster the will to throw it away. With Marge Dursley dead no one was left to remember the Dursleys. He was not all that troubled about the world forgetting Vernon and Petunia but Dudley hadn't even been sixteen when he died. He'd been an annoying bugger well on his way to being an arse equal to Vernon but no one would ever know now.

The rough box was stuffed with five years worth of letters. But it was the lining that Harry was interested in. Digging in his fingertips he dug out the Black and Potter Family rings.

He had less than twenty minutes before Dumbledore would be escorting the Heirs off the school grounds and ten minutes would be wasted getting to the site.

Harry pulled the robes over his head, his fingers skipping over the buttons with an ease learned from sometime during his stay with the Dursleys. His shaggy hair, which was finally growing enough to be pulled back in a tie, he couldn't too much but run his hands several times through it.

Finding one of Seamus' old History essays Harry scrawled a quick note on the blank back. Ron was a good mate but even he would finally snap if he found Harry had left Hogwarts a day after an attempted assassination with nary a word of warning.

A minute later the room was empty save three snoring boys. Pinned on Ron's hand with a well used if irritating sticking charm was a short message.

_Ron,_

_Gone to Ministry of Magic. Can't miss Fudge's day in the spotlight. Am fine—avoid Madam Pomfrey if you know what I mean._

_Harry_

**S**

"Harry!" squeaked Neville in what probably wasn't the most dignified moment in his life. The sandy-haired boy actually took several feet back before falling on his backside. It didn't help that his jaw had become unhinged in surprise. "But…. you aren't…I mean, Madam Pomfrey…" stuttered the boy.

Harry helped his friend up before giving him a wry smile. "There's plenty of things I shouldn't have done but did anyway…you really think this is any different?"

Neville sighed helplessly as he dusted his robes. "I suppose not."

Neville's little scene had attracted the attention of all the other Heirs who had previously been ignoring the Longbottom Heir in favor of gossiping.

From Zabini's side Theodore bowed his head in greeting even as he sent him a welcoming look however discreet it was.

"Is it true Potter?" the Malfoy Heir said as he pushed passed his peers to stand before Harry. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry with certain maliciousness reserved for the latter. "Did someone really try to kill you yesterday?"

"Something like that." Harry answered absent mindlessly. To Harry's senses Malfoy seemed even Darker than the last time they spoke. Tainted. Harry's heart twisted in helpless pity.

_We all pay our father's sins_. Whether it is against another person, ourselves, or even the world we all pay for the sins of those that came before us.

"I told you, you'd be lucky to graduate. You should have known what happens to those that follow Dumbledore—your parents certainly learned the hard way." Malfoy taunted.

Harry knew the Headmaster would be they're any second now. He didn't need to give him a reason to ground him from going to the Ministry.

Harry gave Malfoy a chilled smile the latter would learn to recognize from the Dark Lord—that is if he lived long enough to find out.

"I might not live past graduation…but I'll make sure I'm not the only one." Harry whispered so softly no one save Malfoy heard him.

:** Those who have everything to lose fear those who have nothing to gain.:**

Malfoy paled at the Parsel-tongue whispered into his ear. Smoothly, as if nothing had happened, Harry stepped away from the blond boy just in time to see the Headmaster coming toward them.

"Good morning gentlemen and of course lady." Said Dumbledore as he nodded his greeting to Hannah Abbott. "I take it we are all here? Mr. Potter might I have a word with you?" Blue eyes twinkled brightly, his question was polite enough but anyone that knew the man knew it was a command.

Harry agreeably steeped away from the Heir so he might have some privacy.

"Now my boy, are you sure you should be out after such eventful day?" Dumbledore asked with concerned blue eyes.

"I'm fine."

"Fine? My dear boy you have always held that word under a loose definition. I'm only concerned you might overextend yourself. Madam Pomfrey who I very much suspect is quite miffed at you would not appreciate a relapse. But you will do as you see fit so I suppose I should warn you…your attackers are both dead and most of the Wizengamot is aware of basic events though we have succeeded in keeping it quite from the general public, at least for the time."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. His throat fell awfully dry; somehow it seemed far scarier with so many people knowing of the attack.

"It's not like it could have been kept a secret for much longer and at least this way anyone that thinks to go after me will know I have some sort of protection."

For a moment Dumbledore looked as old as his brother Aberforth.

"I am truly regretful for the events that let this. Those men should have never been able to trespass on Hogwarts grounds and those that call it home."

Harry stood before the man in silence. For all his manipulations Harry realized Dumbledore genuinely cared about the students.

"Sir…you couldn't have known." Harry said tentatively, his voice demure. Dumbledore didn't say anything but the dim twinkle in his eyes brightened slightly. Silently Dumbledore placed a pale hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I am sorry Harry." He said quietly, none of his usual joviality present. Silently he moved on to join the other Heirs.

So quietly the Headmaster could not have heard Harry repeated. "You couldn't have known."

For a moment he stood starring at the retreating figure. For the first time Harry saw past his anger and disappointment and in that moment he regretted that he couldn't trust Dumbledore anymore. He regretted that he would never know the man behind the Light side.

"Harry you coming?" called back Neville, Zabini standing stiffly at his side.

"Coming."

**S**

The Ministry Apparation Station was busy that Saturday morning. Reclusive lords that smelled of damp and wax slowly made their way to the Great Chamber alongside pale Ambassadors. They might not have known the significance of the day but most were seasoned enough to sense the tension in the air.

Dumbledore immediately left them in search of his own affairs. The Heirs broke off to find their faction and faction leaders.

Harry watched them all quietly. Silently he signaled Neville and Theodore to follow him into one of the private galleries they had talked in long ago.

"You sure you should be here?" Neville asked once they were alone. "Yesterday was pretty rough."

Harry nodded tensely. Unsurprisingly neither Neville nor Theodore seemed to believe him. Harry could only shrug off their concern.

Flicking his wand into his palm Harry cast a Silencing Charm on the room. Tilting his head he motioned the other two boys to join him near the window overlooking the other lords.

"Today…Fudge will announce his resignation." Harry said.

The three boys fell silent as they contemplated what this meant for them and their world.

"About time." Neville finally said with bitter joy.

"My mother keeps up with gossip." Theodore said carelessly. "One of the women she plays bridge with is married to a lord of the Governing Council. Fudge was facing impeachment and wanting to avoid such a scandal he is supposed to resign due to 'medical reasons'."

"But won't this mean a new Minister will have to elect his own Governing Council? Why would they vote to lose their power?"

Theodore snorted.

"And wait for the Full Wizengamot to call a vote of no-confidence? No one wants to be associated with a disaster and Fudge has been one since the day he was elected."

"Oh." Neville said softly. "So who will lead the Wizarding world now?"

"Marcus Garring. 'Acknowledged' Light wizard that served seven years in the Governing Council. Fudge is pushing for this vote." Theodore said nodding toward the man who hovered near the front of the podium.

"Demetri Reinhardt. A former Auror who later became Head of the legal department. Very no-nonsense sort of bloke. He ran against Fudge ten years ago during Fudge's first term and again during the second term. My Gran used to have him over for tea. A lot of the old-timers admire him for his work during the First War. He was behind a lot of the harsher laws for Death Eater but in the end over half were never passed. I think Gran said something about Malfoy advising against it." Neville said haltingly as he tried to recall everything he knew of the man.

"Amos Diggory. I don't think he answers directly to Dumbledore but he is the man that the Headmaster will be pushing forward. With Fudge a goner Dumbledore has invited those against the Dark Lord to form a sort of coalition and Diggory as their figurehead." Harry added.

"What to you think?" Neville finally asked.

"Garring stinks of someone else's money, Reinhardt I don't know about, and Diggory seems the popular choice. Listen…I know you two have offered me your support but what I will do you might not agree with. I am mostly acting on personal reasons so I won't expect your support though I certainly will appreciate it."

Harry paused letting either boy comment. When neither said anything he continued.

"Diggory probably is the best choice, his record within the Ministry cannot be faulted, he's never been too heavily connected to Fudge and his cronies, and he is too arrogant to become a puppet government for Dumbledore. However I will do all I can to sabotage his campaign. Diggory hates me and I don't trust him to give me peace the day this war is over. One way or another I'll make sure Diggory never gains enough power to chuck me in a cell for 'war crimes'." Harry said grimly.

"Diggory…as in Cedric Diggory." Neville said as Harry stoically nodded.

Theodore cold pale eyes softened.

"Wouldn't Dumbledore rein Diggory in?" Neville reasoned. "The Headmaster would never let him go after you like that."

"Neville…I was mostly out of it yesterday but did you hear what happened…after the attack was over that is."

Neville looked uneasy and unwilling to speak so Theodore answered what they all knew.

"Devanny."

"Devanny had a close friend on the team Joyce Fairbanks. When she found out Devanny was dead she blamed me. Not once did she turn toward our attackers that were being restrained just a few feet away. There is no difference between this situation and the one at the end of fourth year. I lived and someone died and in the end it I was supposed to have done more. Fairbanks is a child but some people never lose childish ideas and Diggory is one of those. I trust Dumbledore to keep Diggory restrained but at the end of this war the world will reshape itself to fit new leaders. There is no guarantee Dumbledore will live or that I will not have done something to earn me an Azkaban cell."

"You really think Diggory will win?" Theodore asked.

"He will. If Rufus Scrimgeour should run he might win but it doesn't look like he will."

"What will you then?" Neville asked.

Harry gazed down at the lords who were slowly finding seats.

"A new Governing Council will be voted in. I will do all I can."

Theodore nodded his understanding. "Who shall we be keeping an eye on?"

"Look to where the Founder's Heirs point to. I've made arrangements."

Harry didn't know if what he planned would be enough but it was all he could do. On the bright side he might not be sane when Voldemort died.

**S**

_** from the** Book of Common Prayer_

**AN: Hello to all who actually read my notes…**

**It is unbelievably hot where I am (close to 100 degrees Fahrenheit most of the days) and yesterday I gained another year to my growing collection.**

**I was sad about the number of reviewers I got last time. Despite that I have written the longest chapter yet. So you better not make me regret it.**

**I have NOT read HBP so I don't know what happens. I'm probably not going to read it for a while yet. (It's frustrating how many good fics have been put on hold while the author reconciles themselves with Book 6)**

_**Harry's date?**_

_She'll be there next chapter but I still wont reveal her despite the guesses but I will say it is neither Ginny nor Luna._

_So far only one person has guessed. _

_Think creatively._

_New Trivia:_

_**Any pets?**_

_( I have a 15 pound Russian Blue cat...some days I get the feeling I'm her 'pet')_

_**Harry said 'Look to where the Founder's Heirs point to'**_

_Since he isn't going to reveal himself as such who will be there instead?_

_REVIEW! Or I will be upset_

_And you shouldn't upset me._

_REVIEW!_


	22. Lies Tainted Starlight

**Lies Tainted Starlight**

**S**

The three boys abandoned the gallery room in search of other entertainment.

Theodore disappeared into the crowd. His forest green Family robes fading into a sea of people. Neville made sure he was always a few steps away from Harry. The former had not quite forgotten his first Wizengamot session though Harry suspected it wasn't because lack of trying.

The boys had been separated and Harry had foolishly believed Neville would be relatively okay. However Neville managed to summon the same luck he possessed when blowing up caldrons in Snape's class. The poor boy stumbled upon one of the oldest lords that was half-deaf and kept referring to Neville as Frank all the meanwhile insisting that his 38-year-old great-niece was perfect for him. Neville managed to stutter out a negative. Unfortunately the old lord nodded his understanding only to start applauding the laurels of his 11-year old great-great-niece. By then Neville had been too stunned to even mount a weak protest.

"A pleasure to see you." A rich cultured voice said behind Harry. Harry titled his head back before fully turning his body to the woman speaking.

She was a beautiful woman and like her sisters just as remarkable. Narcissa Black had been an ice queen, porcelain beauty and cool silk, while Bellatrix Black was a dark warrior, smoky eyes and velvet steel. Andromeda Black Tonks claimed a beauty of her own; chocolate hair and honey eyes were full of life and warmth. Today she looked lovely in tailored robes, the rich red and black contrasting with her coloring. The black thestral reared upon her crest and the silver button on her collar correctly identified her as Ambassador of the Black Family.

"Mrs. Tonks it is wonderful to finally meet you face to face."

"Too true young man. I've heard so much about you from my daughter."

Harry smiled in remembrance.

"I hope it was nothing too awful."

"Nothing too awful." She agreed. Andromeda casually turned to study the wizards scattered from the top seats to the floor podium. "My, my, can you believe I have never been here?"

"I don't believe you've met Neville Longbottom."

"A pleasure to meet you ma'am." Neville said as he bowed shortly to her. His wide blue eyes were stunned at meeting the famous Black daughter.

"The pleasure is mine young man. You certainly are the spitting image of your mother though your eyes can only be your grandmother Eunice's. Unfortunately I never knew Alice all that well though I remember her mother as a very strong willed woman. If I recalled correctly my Uncle would always come home in such a rage from the Wizengamot. I remember having the utmost admiration for her in my youth."

Neville smiled widely, his shyness forgotten. Harry recognized the hunger shinning in his face as the hunger only an orphan had for knowing more about his family. He recalled that Alice Longbottom's family was either dead or in the Americans. Neville's maternal relatives had little contact with the boy having mostly fled Britain even before he was born.

"My grandmother Eunice died before I was born but one of my aunts would tell me stories of her. I wish I could have met her."

"Don't fret young man. I see much of Eunice in you. You'd miss the woman in a crowd but speak one ill word about something she cared about and she'd go after you with a vengeance."

Neville smiled more easily. Harry discreetly nodded his thanks to Andromeda. She was certainly gifted at putting people at ease.

"If you two gentleman could lead me toward my seat?" Simultaneously both Harry and Neville offered her their arms.

She smiled pleasantly and took both arms. Harry supposed anyone that raised Tonks would have to be incredibly good-natured. Or at least incredibly patient.

Harry listened absentmindedly as Andromeda recalled stories of Eunice Crowley, the Ambassador of the Crowley Family who served under her brother-in-law, Lord Crowley. In the end, Eunice's mother and sisters fled to the Americans in the mid-seventies. The current Lord Crowley was supposedly a distant cousin of Neville's although the Lord was nearly sixty-years old.

Harry made sure to keep Andromeda between them. Tonks had warned him about her mum's notoriety. Observing more than one wide-eyed wizard gaping at them Harry could believe the need for such caution.

Over a quarter of a century ago the lovely eldest niece of Lord Black was poised to finish her Hogwarts schooling and marry a man chosen by her lord. She was everything a pureblooded girl should be: cultured, elegant, beautiful, and wealthy.

The Black Family had always been good at hiding their in-fighting from public eyes. To their peers they were an upstanding family. Perhaps that is why a scandal brewed when overnight news broke out that Andromeda Black had married without the consent of her Family and with a Muggle nonetheless. For over ten years she vanished into the Muggle world hiding from the vicious retribution of the Blacks. She might have been disowned but the Blacks had long memories and longer grudges.

The only reason she consented to send her daughter to Hogwarts was because by then most of the elder Blacks were either dead or in Azkaban. In fact Narcissa was the only one in any position to exact revenge but as the wife of Malfoy her concerns lay elsewhere.

Within days Andromeda had become a pariah in the social circles she used to attend and the object of gossip everywhere. Since her disownment Andromeda had lived a life of seclusion in the Muggle world alongside her husband Ted Tonks. Rarely had she ventured back into the world of her birth.

Despite that Harry couldn't help but admire how smoothly she acted. He admitted to himself if he was to move back into the Muggle world he would be reasonably lost. There was so much of normal Muggle life he never learned. Plus he had spent over two years completely immersed in the magical world.

Harry led Neville and Andromeda enter the aisle. Their seats were boarding a large coalition of Neutral lords. Among them the grandfatherly face of Lord Elias McNevin eagerly greeted long-time friends.

"Andromeda? Andromeda Black?" She was a gray-haired woman with a youthful face. Curious cinnamon eyes studied Andromeda with wonder. The latter stared at the woman with bafflement.

"Genevieve Bailey?" Andromeda said slowly.

"It is you Andromeda! I can't remember the last time I saw you. Oh dear, it's Davis now. I married back in seventy-five. You look absolutely lovely dear. You've hardly changed at all. As you can see dear I went gray right after I had my first child. Merlin knows we weren't all blessed like you. And who are these two gentlemen? I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? Some days I think I'm completely hopeless. I'm Genevieve Davis, Ambassador of the Davis Family."

"A pleasure." Harry murmured as he bowed shortly to her. "I'm Harry Potter."

"And I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Oh dear…" murmured Lady Davis. "A little young for you, aren't they?"

"You misunderstand." Andromeda said smiling easily. "These two young men were keeping me company. I married right after Hogwarts to Ted Tonks. We have a daughter; she's been an Auror for several years now."

"Lovely dear. You remember my husband Alistor Davis? He's in France on business."

"Any children?"

"Oh yes, four. My eldest son went to Beauxbaton and is working alongside Alistor. The French always knew how to teach manners; he's such a gentleman. My daughter went to Hogwarts; it's her last year. She's quite fond of the Maclay boy, Garret's son. I expect any day now he'll be asking Alistor for a formal marriage contract. And of course the twins; I wanted them to go to Beaubaxton just like Pierre but in the end their father decided Hogwarts would be best. At least Tracey is there to keep an eye on them but next year they'll be all alone and Merlin knows what I'll do then."

Andromeda gave her a fond smile.

"Nymphadora was more than enough for me. She was such a strong witch I suspect the Obliviaters knew us by face."

"You really should come over for tea sometime. It's so easy to lose track—… Ooh my, what do you suppose is happening over there?"

Harry turned to study the commontion occurring. A figure was entering the Chamber and two Auror's were gesturing wildly. A smooth wave of one hand and several words were apparently enough to dismiss two sulking Aurors. The Aurors might have left but the Wizard-Lords made no move to divert their attention.

The figure glided in between the nervous wizards. Almost uneerily the figure moved directly toward him.

Elegant royal blue robes lined with silver fell comfortably over the tall figure. The man's pale features stood out starkly in contrast with long black hair and dark sunglasses. Harry didn't have to look to know sensitive yellow eyes hid behind those lens. It was the mark of a vampire.

Completely nocturnal creatures their eyes were designed to see even in the dimmest of lights and were powerful enough to spot a tiny mouse in a cornfield. As such their eyes could not stand direct light without damaging the retina.

"Mr. Potter." The vampire said smoothly.

"I hope you didn't encounter too much trouble."

"Nothing I couldn't handle. I am Valein, childe of Elder Amos Ferox of Clan Caliga, Ambassador for the Morrigan Family."

"A pleasure Ambassador Valein."

"Oh dear…" murmured Lady Davis, her cinnamon eyes wide.

"These are my companions Andromeda Black Tonks, Genevieve Davis, and Neville Longbottom."

Valein nodded to each. As a rule most vampires disliked touching others. Neither Neville nor Lady Davis had lost their wide-eyed look. It didn't help that surrounding wizards were studying the little group curiously. What some of them wouldn't do right about now for a pair of Extendable Ears.

Harry had never met Valein before but when he had asked Amos for help he had understood the Vampire Elder couldn't make an appearance at the Ministry. Most vampires his age had committed more than enough legal infractions to be detained by Aurors on sight. Legally vampires were subject to Vampire law but once they crossed Wizards they fell under Ministry jurisdiction.

Valein was young enough to still have a clean record.

Even as Harry sat down he couldn't help but notice the brilliant gold robes of a lone middle-aged woman. She stoically sat down in an empty seat conveniently midway from the top deck. Eleanor Gibbins had arrived.

**S**

"—For several years I have led the Wizarding World; from the aftermath of the last war and through more than a decade of peace. As our world prepares to face the threat of another war I regret to inform you my health can no longer permit me to dedicate my all to my office—"

"He's as healthy as a horse." Whispered Lady Davis who chose to sit behind them.

"—It now falls upon my esteemed colleagues to select a Minister that can stand strong against this new threat and govern the Ministry through a smooth transaction of administration. I have faith that you will all chose wisely and the new administration will rise successfully to meet these troubled times."

"Like Garring has a snowball's chance in hell." Lady Davis said.

"—I now turn you over to Albus Dumbledore." Harry politely joined everyone as they clapped for the newcomer.

The Headmaster smiled pleasantly as he took Fudge's place behind the podium.

"This is certainly exciting! Lets move on, shall we? As Mugwump of the Wizengamot I will serve as Master of Ceremonies till now and the night of December the twenty-first at which time the new Minister will be sworn in. At this time all present can nominate a member of the Wizengamot or a Ministry employ who has served at least ten years. They must be registered as a British Wizard with the Department of Wizarding Records. The floor is open to nominations. The floor recognizes Lord Arnold Arvill"

"I nominate Ministry employee Marcus Garring." said a pale thin man sitting next to Fudge.

"Who will confirm this nomination?" Dumbledore asked professionally.

Besides him a magical ledger kept a transcript of all those speaking. Sitting next to the ledger a stern-eyed witch gripped her wand severely. Her face clearly warned them as if they were nothing but children that she was keeping an eye out for anyone magiking the ledger.

Harry calmly listened as the potential Ministers were nominated. There was no need for a long campaign. All the campaigning needed was to be focused on those present. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theodore glance at him in question. Harry discreetly shook his head as one after another wizard was nominated and was either confirmed or denied by their peers.

There weren't that many. There would only be one Minister in contrast to thirteen members of the Governing Council.

The Ministers nominees were all named: Marcus Garring, Demetri Reinhearth, Amos Diggory, and the unknown Humphrey Hywell.

"Moving along then." Dumbledore said from the podium. "The Governing Council will now accept nominations."

The magical ledger fluttered as another page unfurled and a floating quill readied to take note.

From besides him Valein stood. The surrounding wizards who were in the middle of whispering excitedly to their neighbors stilled. The common well-bred pureblood would have never before come so close to a vampire.

"The floor recognizes…?" Dumbledore asked curiously, his eyes holding a mixture of interest and wariness.

"Ambassador Valein Caliga. The Morrigan Family nominates Lord Axtros Montague." Valein sat down calmly with a composure Harry couldn't help but envy. From his spot Montague calmly nodded as his friends turned to the wizard in surprise.

Fudge spluttered and several other wizards jumped excitedly.

Harry couldn't help but smirk. He couldn't hope to control the would-be-Minister. However he _could_ insert enough people in the Governing Council to guard against the Minister's more questionable edicts. People that were loyal to him or at the very least possessed a formidable enough character not to be dragged under the Minister's will.

He'd chosen carefully. By nominating them he granted them the support of his name. It was then up to them to fight their way onto the Council. If they couldn't do that they wouldn't be able to survive the inner politics of the Council. Harry didn't expect all of them to succeed. As a precaution he would be nominating several people.

Most of them under a different Family theoretically bound to the Lord Morrigan.

News of Morrigan's nomination seemed to have stunned the wizards. Some of the less confident wizards wavered in the face of confronting the will of a Founding Family. Taking advantage of their stupor Ms. Gibbins stood.

"The floor recognizes…?" If the look of unease on Dumbledore's face was anything to go by he recognized the crest of the woman he had just signaled out.

"Ambassador Eleanor Gibbins. The Gryffindor Family nominates Lord Elias McNevin."

Dumbledore blinked for a second, almost as if he didn't quite trust what he heard. He could only ponder what mad folly his brother had fallen into this time.

For a moment the wizard-lords' chatter echoed in the chamber. Gryffindor had been a name none had heard within their lifetime in this Chamber. It was a name of legend, its Family long suspected to have ended.

"ORDER!" echoed the _Sonorous_ enhanced voice of Dumbledore. "Who will confirm this nomination?"

A flurry of wizards stood; even some that sat dead center within the ranks of Fudge and Dumbledore sprang to their feet.

Under his breath Harry snickered.

_This is what happens when you teach a generation that Gryffindor can do no wrong._

On his side Andromeda stood.

"The floor recognizes Ambassador Andromeda Black Tonks." Dumbledore said evenly. This day was turning out far too many surprises for an old man.

"The Black Family nominates Ministry employee Elspeth Crichlow." Plenty of people seconded that nomination.

Andromeda was a formidable legend of her own. The pureblooded daughter that married a Muggle; the woman that defied one of the darkest families; a pureblooded witch who did not bow to the Dark Lord but neither did she seek refuge within Dumbledore's circle. She attracted the not-so-dark, the 'Muggle-lovers', and the neutrals. Honestly her name had become legend…and she knew how to use it.

Harry stood up.

"The floor recognizes Lord Harold Potter." The look on Dumbledore's face was inscrutable. This was the first time Harry had ever involved himself openly with politics and Dumbledore didn't exactly know how to take it. On one hand Harry held plenty of anger for a majority of people that had protected him over the years. On the other Harry was Voldemort's nemesis and as such the Dark's enemy.

"The Potter Family nominates Lord Edmund Sturgis." A coalition of people enamored with the Golden Boy and his legend stood up. Only an idiot could lose with Harry Potter's name behind him.

Harry lazily watched as the rest of the nominees were called up. The people and legends surrounding the first batch of nominees had intimidated more than one wizard with aspirations of power.

Some names called up were allies of his, others were not. His Ambassador knew which names to watch out for and support. They didn't act simultaneously for that would reveal without a doubt their alliance.

Ian Seymour; Mycroft Rolfe; Graham Fogg; Esther Doyle; Harriet Sedgwick; Gordon Wyatt.

Something just over thirty names were selected. From them thirteen people would succeed into the Council. Out of ten witches and wizards Harry backed he only needed five to actually win a Seat. That would create a healthy enough block to stop the Ministry's more undesirable plans.

"Oh dear…." Muttered Lady Davis. "This is certainly unusual."

"Indeed." Andromeda said dryly.

Harry kept his smirk to himself.

**S**

_Sean and Bast Brungle, _

_Fudge is pushing last minute edicts through the Wizengamot. Werewolf rights are slated to come up for vote in a private hearing with his Council within days. Rumors have said werewolves will be tagged and routinely checked for Dark activity. Remember Ministry Edict 728B and the "liberties" taken by certain Aurors._

_Fudge will pass them so be prepared. Next Minister probably won't revoke them till the war is over. Hide as much as you can and be prepared for Auror vengeance after any major loss by the Ministry._

_Please be careful. Don't end up on the wrong side of a wand._

_Evan Mortifer_

**S**

Hogwarts was completely blanked in snow as November faded. Life continued for those that called Hogwarts home and for a time the Second War could be forgotten as the holiday cheer fell on the students.

Throughout the Wizarding World witches and wizards prepared themselves for a festive season if somewhat forcibly. News of Fudge's retirement seemed to lift the spirits of those that had long since believed the man incompetent. With the hope of a new Minister came the hope that someone would finally take charge and turn the war around. It also didn't hurt that the near constant raids on Muggle and outlying wizards seemed to have fallen into a lull.

People took it as a sign that the war was turning around. Harry couldn't help but think this was the calm before the storm. Voldemort was gathering his strength for a major assault.

They should have been preparing; they should have been stocking up on medical supplies, planning defenses, and making escape plans. Sometimes it was easy to forget what you shouldn't have.

The end of November also brought Gryffindor's first match against Ravenclaw. Harry's assassination attempt had in the end injured Ginny's knee too much for Madam Pompey to safely allow the girl to continue flying. The loss of a Beater had also hampered the team and if that wasn't enough the barely hidden animosity the Fairbanks girl held toward Harry seemed to leave a sour note in everyone's game. By all rights Gryffindor should have lost. In the end their saving grace was Ravenclaw's newest Seeker.

The Seekers were the ones that ended the game and Cho's replacement was no match against Harry. The game was over before Ravenclaw scored too much and after Fairbanks' threw the Quaffle suspiciously close to Harry. That didn't earn the girl much sympathy from him. Quidditch was perhaps one of the few things that let him escape his life. He didn't need or want the drama of a girl tangled up with anger and grief.

Since the fateful day Devanny died Harry had noticed Fairbanks seemed to be stalking him. It wasn't just her of course. The other two members of the broken quartet always seemed to be around him in the Common Room, the Great Hall, and library. Needless to say Harry's patience only extended so far. Someone had obviously already talked to Fairbanks about her behavior. For although she was antagonist toward him she wouldn't express her opinions though she dearly wanted to. The week of mourning following Devanny's death had been especially filled with hateful glares.

It wasn't that Harry didn't care that the boy died. Honestly it was a rotten thing to have happened to such a young boy. But if Harry had learned anything in seven years at Hogwarts was he couldn't control everything and he couldn't take responsibility for every disaster. Never mind that he usually ended being in the middle of said disaster.

The beginning of December marked Theodore's coming of age. Harry never asked but based on a markedly coolness several Slytherin's showed he knew without a doubt Theodore had been approached by the Dark Lord…and refused.

Harry and Theodore's friendship had steadily grown. Besides obvious political goals they had little to connect them to the other. But they both shared a quiet restraint within themselves that called to the other strongly. They understood some secrets weren't meant to be shared and some things should never be repeated. Sometimes silence was the best thing you could offer someone. Perhaps Harry really was more of a Slytherin than the Sorting Hat had thought.

Over the weeks something in Hogwarts had been growing. Ron and Ginny told him of several strangers that would join McGonagall in her office after dinner as well as during the weekend. Harry didn't dare spy on someone so high up within the Order. He might have had the power to do so but there was no way he wouldn't trip an alarm. He simply didn't know all the tricks out there.

Term steadily threw to a close and Harry prepared to spend his last holiday at Hogwarts. Harry encouraged his friends to go home. The remaining Weasleys were prepared to spend the holiday with him but Harry knew better than to accept. Plus sometimes he thought it would have been better if Ginny transferred to another school. She was susceptible to bouts of depression and Hogwarts really wasn't the best place for her. But Harry recognized that if she left she would lose the daily support of her friends. Ginny was prone to cling to Ron and Harry as her protectors. Mostly she spent her time with Luna and surprisingly Neville. She needed her family around her more than she would care to admit.

**S**

In the Common Room Neville and Harry absentmindedly played a game of Exploding Snap. It was Winter's Solstice and both were more than a little nervous about the night that was to come. So far they had spent the morning killing time with a stream of games. Neither was in any state to do anything productive.

Sometime during the early afternoon both boys gave up and went to change. Harry knew immediately someone must have helped Neville choose his robe. Honestly neither boy was all that fashion savvy.

Neville dressed in warm chocolate brown robes tailored to perfection. He'd lost the baby fat around his face and his whole frame gave off a steady confidence he'd cultivated in later years.

"Who'd you end up asking Nev?"

The other boy grimaced. "More like she asked me. Actually…she sort of rescued me from some girls."

He smiled nervously. "Hannah Abbott."

"From Hufflepuff?"

"Uhmm…yes."

"She's a nice girl."

Neville smiled wildly. "She is, isn't she? What about you? You still haven't told anyone who you're taking."

Harry grinned. "You'll see. You know what? I really think I uncovered three secret passageways running away from…eh…determined girls."

"I hope you have fun. I better go stalk the Hufflepuff dorms for a while. Seamus says girls are never ready on time but I didn't dare ask Hannah if it was true."

"Good call mate. Have fun and maybe I'll see you there."

"You too."

**S**

Harry had procured his dress robes nearly a year ago and hadn't worn them once. Unsurprisingly they still fit. He'd given up on any delusions that he still might grow long ago. His robes were high quality material that was soft and strong. Honestly he hadn't the faintest idea what material it was. They were a silver color that looked very much like liquid mercury. Their simple cut prevented the robes from looking gaudy.

Harry simply hoped that he wouldn't make an ass out of himself.

Apparating to his date's house Harry made sure his robe was straight, his hair as neat as it could be, and his portkey secure around his neck (a safety measure Harry was accepted in exchange for a night of "freedom").

He knocked at the door of the modest house. After a few seconds echoing footsteps could be heard to be approaching. A man opened the door. He had wild brown curls on his head and soft light brown eyes behind reading glasses. He was dressed in casual Muggle cloths. The man studied him for a moment, not at all perturbed at having a young man showing up at his door wearing robes.

"Ah…Mr. Potter. Come in, come in. I've heard much of you from my daughter."

"Thank you." He said as he stepped into the foyer.

"Why don't you wait for her in my study? She'll be right out and I could always use the company."

Harry obediently followed and couldn't help but smile at the man's easygoing nature. "I confess I'm not all that great company."

The man laughed easily. "Trust me my boy, I used to read some my college dissertations to my daughter before my wife finally told me they were lovely bedtime stories and I should stop putting our girl to sleep in the middle of the day. Just about any company is good company."

"I guess not everyone can appreciate this sort of literature." Harry said politely.

"Too true my boy." Exclaimed the man as if he had just been vindicated.

"Unfortunately I'm one of them."

The man sighed. "Unfortuantely. No matter…I think I hear her coming down the stairs."

The man jumped excitedly to place a camera in position. Harry didn't stop the grin of amusement from spreading on his face.

"Honestly love, don't you think that's a little too much?" said a woman's voice from the door. Harry nearly squeaked his surprise. He hadn't heard her enter.

"But love…I want to preserve this moment. My very own witch." He sighed dreamily.

"Love!" she chided, half-reprimanding half-laughing. "Behave, we have a guest. It's lovely seeing you again Harry."

"Now Harry." Began the man, adopting a stern look on his face. Ignoring the baffled look on Harry's face he began "I know you'll be the perfect gentleman. I expect you to take care of my girl and to watch out for her."

"Oh Merlin." Moaned the woman. "Now I know how Nymphadora felt like."

Ted Tonks grinned mischievously. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't warn my wife's date?"

"Love do you know how odd that sounds?" whimpered Andromeda.

Mr. Tonks leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on his wife's cheek. Andromeda smiled back at her husband and gave him a more 'proper kiss'.

Harry smiled as he looked away from the couple. For a second he felt envious of Tonks who grew up with these two as parents. There was warmth surrounding the couple that Harry hadn't seen in many people. He was beginning to understand how Andromeda could give up virtually all she knew and loved for someone.

"We can't dawdle Ted or we'll be late."

"Ruin my fun, why don't you? But you shant escape without posing for a picture."

Andromeda sighed in exasperation but she couldn't hide the smile spreading on her face. She held up one hand and motioned Harry to take it. Harry grinned as he kissed her palm and successfully managed to ignore the flash of Mr. Tonks' camera.

Andromeda looked spectacular in a soft mauve colored robe. The pale color of the robe was contrasted greatly by the Black Family jewels' Harry had sent ahead. The jewels would have overshadowed any other woman but Andromeda managed to wear them as if it she had been born for them. Which wasn't that far from the truth to be honest. She wore twin bracelets made of amber, rubies, and tourmaline set in aged gold. On her neck was a chocker with strings of small rubies and diamonds and a large center ruby engraved with the rearing Thestral of the Black Family. Her chocolate hair was pinned up with several ruby and amber pins and topped of with gold and ruby circlet. It was quite possibly she wore a king's ransom and as a testament to the decadence of years past all of that composed less than half of the 'official' jewel set. Several more bracelets, complementary necklaces, two gold armbands, and some heavy earring had been discarded for modesty's sake. This is anything was proof of the sheer quantity the Black Family coffers housed.

And of course in no way or form was Harry exploiting the fact by flaunting the Black Family wealth to the Great Families, some of whom had fallen on hard times after so many wars this century. He'd never do that. Never. After all, wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, supposed to be the epitome of what a hero was? Kind, courageous, _modest_, joyous, and self-sacrificing.

"Time to go."

"My poor heart…must I bear the sorrow of watching my love go off to the ball without me?"

"You dunce, Merlin knows what fairytale you're dreaming of this time but I'll always return to my prince."

Mr. Tonks smiled. "Have fun."

Andromeda gave her husband one last kiss before signaling Harry outside the house so they could apparate once outside the wards.

"It was nice meeting you Mr. Tonks."

"Take care of my wife…you know what? That really does sound odd."

Andromeda sighed.

**S**

Ignis Draconus Keep was once one of four Keeps from which the Old Council of the Great Families ruled. It was located near the ruins of Cadbury Castle in Somerset, the fated site from which Arthur Pendragon once ruled Camelot. During the sixth century King Arthur became the first Squib to be granted equal rights within the Council. In honor of King Arthur Ignis Keep became one of the last places Muggles could freely find wizards. Even after King Arthur passed from this world the Keep remained as a testament that Muggles and Wizards could coexist. But with time, like all things, those days passed as well.

Muggles grew fearful of their magical cousins and dark days fell upon them. And finally there came a day in which wizards severed themselves from Muggles. The Statue of Secrecy was born and Ignis Keep was abandoned as was everything it had once represented.

Centuries passed and eventually the Great Families created the Ministry to govern the wizards of the territory that eventually became known as Great Britain. Sometime during the sixteen century the Keep was rediscovered within the archives of the Ministry. Officially a property of the Ministry, Ignis Keep was too inconvenient to serve as anything practical. Eventually it was updated and refurnished to serve as one giant ballroom for lack of a better description. Since then every Minister has been sworn in at Ignis Keep.

**S**

Theodore had arrived promptly. He'd gotten dressed early and left to pick up Daphne with plenty of time. One should admire his promptness. Of course he would never admit to have done all that simply to escape the caterwauling his Mother had taken a fancy to.

He'd never been able to deal with a female in tears. Theodore just hoped his little brother wouldn't hate him for leaving him alone with their Mother.

For a while he wandered around with Daphne. Unfortunately most of the people there were—using the kindest language he could—old. Even worse were the aging Heirs. Some lords managed to live so long some Heirs began to think it would be lucky if their children lived to inherit. They didn't exactly appreciate seeing Theodore holding the Family lordship even before his majority. It was all rather gloomy.

Theodore saw them arrive. In all honestly it was kind of hard not to. They entered through the Great Doors instead of one of the lesser doors at the side. Standing there framed by the gold-leafed ornate doors at their back Theodore couldn't help but think there was something…greater about the couple.

Looking back he would remind himself that Mrs. Tonks was taller than Harry and the latter had been dusting off his sleeve as a result of close brush with one of the cumbersome torches scattered around. At the time all he could to do was to admire them; he later consoled himself by reminding himself that he probably wasn't the only one.

The Black Family jewels that hadn't been publicly worn in more than a quarter century burned like fire under the magical light. Her very presence spoke of warmth and elegance. If the woman was the sun then Harry was the moon. Under the flickering lights his silver dress robes gave him the appearance of a conjured Patronus. As always his eyes were the first thing to attract attention because even at his age they gave off a power that most of his peers would never reach.

The couple gracefully walked further into the room and soon after that Theodore lost sight of them. He abruptly dragged his eyes away from their fading forms; embarrassed to have gawked like a star-eyed fan.

Later on he saw Harry greeting other guests and despite himself he couldn't help but study the Double Heir.

Hooded green eyes never revealed anything other than vague amusement. Theodore couldn't point out exactly what made him think Harry was insulting every guest in his mind but he had no doubt the wizard was doing exactly that.

In the weeks since the two had become allies and then friends Theodore was amazed to learn of the Harry Potter no one saw. This wasn't a self-righteous brat or an arrogant celebrity; neither was he the suicidal angsty teen nor the rebellious fool.

Harry, Theodore had learned, was a living contradiction. The teen wore jaded emerald eyes having seen the world at its lowest moments yet there was an innocence still forever lingering, an unwillingness to believe in...we'll he wasn't quite sure yet. He was jagged and bitter, cruel wit and biting words that were signs of being hurt too many times, a trained defensive technique. But other times Harry would give a lopsided smile and one could almost mistake him for a random student with none of the shadows that clung to him.

And of course, Theodore sighed, there were times when he was sure the Gryffindor was insane and everyone was too awe-struck to have him committed. Only an insane person would be smiling charmingly at Malfoy of all people. His fellow Slytherin was sneering in a most Malfoyish way while his hand twitched near his wand. From the glaring eyes Draco wanted nothing more than to curse the Gryffindor so badly the Dark Lord himself would have felt it.

This wasn't school and they were no longer boys. Rash acts were not appropriate behavior and even the Muggle-raised Harry and his incensed rival knew not to resort to open battle. That is how feuds began, aggressions that would propagate to every blood family member and would span generations if need be. That is how the famous Malfoy-Weasley feud had begun and continued. Most didn't even know what the two families warred about anymore but their animosity had been such a staple of life it was unlikely the conflict would ever be resolved. For a time the Weasleys, while not ennobled, had been wealthy in their own right and in true Slytherin fashion the Malfoy family had hounded the family till they were nothing more than common stock, nearly paupers.

Malfoys were intelligent enough to pick their enemies wisely. Weasleys they could ruin but only the Dark Lord and Fudge had ever dared go against Harry openly.

From watching Harry, Theodore learned something. Going against him was like setting off firecrackers in a small room, having managed to hit him you left yourself vulnerable with an angry wizard nearby.

**S**

Harry aimlessly walked and greeted various wizards. He had left Andromeda talking to some of her old acquaintances. He didn't really have any purpose in mind as he walked about when he was abruptly stopped by a flushed Lord that seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was fate's constant joke that made him victim of a wizard that was already well into his third wine glass.

"Potter? Black's godson weren't you? Your names came up in a private hearing a few weeks ago. Classified information you understand, too many wizards in the Council were part of the original Council that carted the Black fellow off to Azkaban. Doesn't matter much too me; my career's over, my son died three months ago, my wife's been dead for ages, and the Healers at St. Mungo haven't anything good to tell me."

The pudgy Lord took another swing of his wine glass. Using some hidden sixth sense he swung an arm behind him and caught the arm of a waiter with an empty tray.

"Be a good chap and bring me another glass.

"What was I saying? That Peter Pettigrew fellow was caught. Dumbledore brung him in—apparently he was an illegal animagus—terrible trouble registering every chap that manages that. You can imagine the awkward position that left a great many fellows. To tell you the truth it wouldn't have mattered a great deal if the Black fellow hadn't escaped. The promises Fudge made and the information he released back then just about sunk his career.

He leaned in toward Harry, his breath pungent with alcohol.

"_I_ heard that Cox lady—lovely woman—got her hands on the information and threatened to release it to the public if Fudge didn't resign. Lit a fire under Fudge it did, poor fellow."

The wizard leaned back—much to Harry's relief—as he took another swing of his wine glass.

"Far as I know the paperwork was filed to reclassify Black as a citizen but you know the sort of chaps down at Wizarding Records. Merlin knows when the paperwork will come through. It's all bureaucracy—Fudge staffed plenty of friends down there and none of them will be keen on letting the records become public. This is the type of stuff the news rags blow up on the front page."

"You don't seem to care much about keeping it quiet." Harry finally said having given up on escaping this loon anytime soon. Despite that Harry couldn't help but be happy that Sirius in the end was the one that forced Fudge out of office. The Marauder in him would have appreciated it, especially since it happened after his death.

The wizard let out a watery laugh…and then he took another swing of his glass. Harry sighed.

"I've heard things about you and the chaps you deal with. Fudge was awfully relieved when you didn't show up in the hearing. Till the Wizengamot I had pegged you as Dumbledore's boy but it became clear you were consorting with fellows that made the old Professor nervous."

Harry shrugged; to all appearances he seemed disinterred in the man's ramblings.

"Doesn't matter much if you deny or not; doesn't matter much to me anyway. My life's right about run its course. You on the other hand have plenty of years to give all these chaps some ulcers. Mark my words lad, this is going to spill open to the public soon and when it does more than one career is going to be knackered. Those close to Fudge will be trying to build some distance between our esteemed ex-Minister. 'Tis the season to retire my dear fellow. Ohh…would you look at that? It looks like some of those chaps over there have gotten a hold of some good wine. You'll have to excuse me. Business you see." The drunkard said as he wandered off to harass some waiters.

Harry quickly walked off before the drunkard could return. He had to be on his best behavior he remembered somewhat sourly. Last time he promised anything of that sort.

Harry weaved in between people. His messy hair had been styled to fall over his scar. Surprisingly enough there were few current shots of him. Back in fourth-year, the year of the Triwizard Tournament, he hadn't exactly been much besides a short scrawny kid. So long as no one was foolish enough to squeal his name like an overexcited first-year the surrounding wizards didn't even realize he walked among them.

"Having fun?" said Theodore's smooth voice.

Harry turned toward his year mate. Dressed in midnight blue robe Theodore's pale eyes shown brightly while his dark hair contributed to the distant and wealthy persona the Slytherin cultivated for the world to see.

Harry scowled heavily at the question.

"If you call being accosted by a wizard that's taken one too many sips of wine fun then I suppose I've had fun." Harry shot out sarcastically. Almost grudgedly he continued. "Though you'd be surprised about the 'classified information' one is willing to talk after one too many glasses."

Theodore cool mask broke into a very real amused smirk. "I'm sure you two had fun. I don't think you've ever been formally introduced to my date Daphne Greengrass. Daphne you of course have heard of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." He said as he signaled to the girl that hung near his elbow.

She was a pretty girl; deep auburn hair that almost seemed violet was held in silver clips. She was pale without being sickly; a light blush dotted her cheeks. Her eyes were a warm brown and her face clearly aristocratic. There was pride in her face but none of the snobbery that so easily twisted beauty. Harry took a liking to her right off the bat.

"A pleasure." He said as he too her hand and lightly brushed a kiss on it.

"Likewise." She said as her face melted into a grin.

"Potter get your own date." Theodore complained good-naturedly. "Where is your date anyway? She leave you already?"

Harry sighed tragically. "Alas, neither my fame nor my charm could keep her by my side. I suppose it didn't help that her daughter is older than me."

"Harry…who exactly did you bring?" Daphne questioned Harry as she eyed him strangely.

"Such a lovely woman you see." Harry said somewhat mistily. "She is my… aunt? God-aunt? God-cousin? I don't really know now that I think about it. Mrs. Andromeda Black Tonks."

Theodore nodded approvingly.

Daphne clapped excitedly. "My mum has been anxious to have tea with Mrs. Tonks. You really have to admire the courage it took to do all that."

"Daphne if I didn't know any better I'd say you were sounding suspiciously Gryffindor." Theodore mocked.

Daphne huffed. "I'd like to believe you knew better."

Harry scowled at the couple.

"Daphne I'm sure Theodore would care to dance."

"You know Harry, I think you are right. Come Theodore put those dancing lessons to use."

Theodore shot Harry a sour look before offering his hand to Daphne. Harry was tempted to watch Theodore's dance attempts but staying still made him a target for flitty girls and overbearing politicians.

Eventually he ended hovering near a table with some of the gaudiest pieces of silverware ever crafted.

He loitered near the ordures. Dancing wasn't his thing and truth be told all these people unnerved him.

**S**

"Psss."

Harry took another sip of his butterbeer.

"Psss. Boy."

He took another sip.

"Boy." A girl whispered louder. Harry glanced around him and didn't spot anyone.

"Down here."

Leaning over a dish he spotted a girl sitting on the ground behind the table and against the wall.

She smiled brightly at him. Long ash blond hair was falling out of her decorative hairstyle; jeweled clips were scattered around a half-empty amber bottle. A pale cream robe gave her a somewhat washed out appearance. She was pretty enough but Harry couldn't help but think the girl a pale version of more vibrant aristocratic ladies he had already seen.

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

For a moment she studied him seriously. Apparently she found what she was looking for because she unsteadily climbed toward her feet.

"You…" she giggled. "You can help me?"

Harry blinked.

"Please?" Ducking she crawled under the table and popped back up on the other side. She grasped his arm and in the process almost toppled over. Leaning heavily on him she tugged him toward a nearby hallway. One arm was supporting the girl while the other hand discreetly rigged his holster to release a dagger the moment things turned odd.

His eyes darted from the girl to the endless hallway, random torches flickering in even increments. Perhaps that is why he wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Warm lips descended on his. A soft body was pressed against him and despite himself for a moment Harry didn't understand what the soft bumps on the girl's chest were. Once he did Harry flushed a brilliant Weasley red

"Miss…this…not…good…idea." Harry was able to stutter in between warm kisses.

"Shush." The girl cooed at him.

For a brief moment annoyance crept into his body before he was marvelously distracted by clever hands weaving into his hair. He might be the Heir of five Families, the marked adversary of the greatest Dark Lord this century, and an iconic figure in Wizarding culture, but after all was said and done he was still a boy that had only traded a few wet kisses that left both parties rather disillusioned.

In the end he was still a teenage boy with an imbalance of hormones.

He didn't even register as the girl slid their bodies into a private alcove. Harry was quite contend to let her kiss him senseless as he tentatively experimented in return. His inexperience made him nervous but obviously not enough to dissuade him.

Harry could only think of one thing.

_She was a bloody brilliant kisser. _

He should probably figure out who she was. Several cleaver kisses later Harry mustered the will to grab hold of her shoulders and pull her away from him.

"What's wrong?" She muttered as she craned her neck to nuzzle into his shoulder. Harry half-heartedly glared at her.

"Who are you?"

She laughed softly, soft blue eyes peaking out from beneath long pale lashes. "Does it matter?"

The girl lunged back into him, pushing him into the wall as she landed a few more kisses. Harry wasn't about to lie and say he didn't return them eagerly.

Harry disentangled his head from her. Ignoring light kisses down his cheek and neck he tried to form coherent thought.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Harry said with as much force as he could muster.

The girl abruptly stopped. She sighed in exasperation.

"What the hell is wrong?" She whined. She fell quiet as a look of contemplation washed over her face. "You're not…you know."

"I'm not what?"

"You know." She giggled in embarrassment. "You _know_. You bat on the other team. Birds aren't your flavor."

For a moment Harry couldn't understand what the girl was getting at.

"Oh." He finally said dumbly. "_Oh_. No, no that isn't it."

"Then," she lunged back to plant a firm kiss, "what is the problem?"

"What do you mean what is the problem. I don't have any bloody idea who you are."

For a moment she stilled. "My name is Fran short for Francesca."

"Lovely. Now what were you doing right now."

Fran sighed. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

Harry flushed.

"Why? You don't know who I am and by the looks of it you aren't exactly sober."

"What do you care? You don't find me attractive or what? Are you _shy_?" She giggled while making wild sloppy gestures.

"I'm not shy!" Harry yelped. "Confused but not shy."

"What is wrong?" She said in exasperation, enunciating every word.

"Why are you doing this?"

Maybe it was the alcohol that made her talk or maybe it was because she truly didn't care but she answered him.

"Because there is no way in hell I'm going to let the bastard Frankfurt be the first to touch me." When she met Harry's eyes again he was surprised to find them bright with tears. She moved to lean against the wall besides Harry. He swallowed his panic in the face of the girl's emotional breakdown. Awkwardly he padded her shoulder. Ironically the only thing he could think about was his track record with girls. It didn't look good if the only two girls he had ever kissed ended up crying. He couldn't help but sourly think that both girls also seemed hung up on some other bloke.

"Who's Frankfurt?" Harry asked tentatively. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say because Fran burst into full-fledged tears. They slid down the wall till both were sitting down side-by-side. After a few deep breaths Fran answered.

"A family of bastards and in a month I'll be a bastardrette."

Harry looked at her contemplative. "Then leave."

Fran snorted. Wiping a stray tear she turned scornfully toward Harry. "And to what? Go where? You want me to leave this?"

"Why not?"

Apparently Harry said something incredibly stupid because Fran laughed scornfully before her voice tapered off with a hysterically edge. She flipped long ash blond hair behind her and looked at him condescendingly.

"Let me guess. You're either the only boy or the only child…either way you're the Family Heir."

Mystified Harry nodded.

"Typical. _You_ wouldn't even think about it. It doesn't matter who _you _marry, you'll never have to give up this life. Not all of us are that lucky. Frankfurt is the only idiot that will marry me for the dowry my Father is offering."

"Dowry?" Repeated Harry. _Girls still used dowries?_

Fran looked at him incredulously. "Merlin don't you know anything? We are the Great Families—the elite. If I marry just anybody I won't be able to come back here. What do you think my friends will say? The only way I'll ever come back is if whatever dunderhead I marry becomes Minister."

Harry was honestly feeling a little put out. He wasn't sure whom Fran reminded him about but he had an awful feeling it was a cross between Draco Malfoy and Lavender Brown.

"But you don't like Frankfurt." Harry said.

"Of course not. Who would like that idiot?"

"And you're still going to marry him?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Didn't I just say that was the only idiot that would take up my dowry? Grandfather and Father were both ruddy dunces in managing the Family finances. We're lucky that we still have the Family Manor. Merlin knows what sort of debt Father scrounged up fooling everyone into thinking nothing's wrong. If I don't marry now Goddess knows Father is likely to loose my dowry and then where will I be?" She asked him somewhat belligerently. Harry corrected himself; she definitely wasn't sober.

"I'll tell you were. I'll be another penniless girl with nothing but a decent lineage to her name. In Great-Grandmama's day that would have been enough but now…all this new blood. They ruddy steal all the blokes that 'don't care' about money."

"So you're prepared to be unhappy for the rest of your life just so you marry the 'right sort'." Harry deadpanned.

"What else do you want me to do?" She honestly asked.

Harry didn't even know why he continued this conversation. As best as he could explain it was because she was a brilliant kisser.

"You're risking a lot for something that might not even be worth it."

"What do you know?" Fran muttered sullenly.

"I know that I'm never going to risk that much. I'll never settle for someone that I don't love much less stand."

Fran looked at him, her eyes softening. "Love over money? That's sweet. But not all of us can have those choices."

Fran pushed away from the wall and shuffled till she was kneeled in front of Harry. She leaned so far into Harry he could see flecks of dark green in her hazel eyes. Her face was flushed with alcohol and her eyes were bright. "You are a sweet boy. It would have been lovely had we met earlier, don't you think? We could have had great fun together."

She sighed dreamily. Harry resisted the urge to make a face.

"I'm not a sweet boy and frankly I don't think it would have mattered much had we met earlier. Marriage isn't something I'm going to get tangled in anytime soon and dowries aren't something that interests me all that much."

She snorted condescendingly. "That's what you think now. You just wait till you go over your Family's account books. Suddenly a few thousand galleons makes all the difference."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't matter, at least not right now. I sighed the contract a week ago but there is no way in heaven above or hell bellow Frankfurt will be the one to touch me first." She leaned in closer till her chin was almost settled on his shoulder. "I told him as much."

Her hair smelled lightly of citrus fruit. Soft hands trailed up his chest till they were intertwined behind his neck.

"Now…what's the problem?" A light kiss landed near his ear. Fran had apparently decided to give him an incentive. Another kiss followed.

Harry tried to think about her intention as seriously as he could (which admittedly wasn't that seriously).

"Do you care who I am?"

Fran huffed impatiently as she let her forehead fall dully on his shoulder. "Love…I don't care who you are. I don't even want to know who you are. This is my last free night before the Frankfurt sisters get their claws into my life. Anything else?" She said impatiently.

Harry fell silent.

"No…that's about it." Swiftly he planted a kiss on her shoulder.

"Finally." She breathed out.

Harry ignored her comment. One of his hands rose to tangle in her hair while the other one slipped past her and rested on her back. With one swift flick he brought his holly wand out. Shifting his body he placed his head on the back of her neck. Even as she gave him a mark on his neck he whispered several quiet spells. A glamour charm darkened his eyes to a forest green; another lightened his hair to a dark brown, and another blurred his famous scar. A Notice-Me-Not charm diverted unwanted attention. Luckily it had been dim enough and she a big enough ditz not to have noticed how he looked initially. A few other necessary charms ensured this night wouldn't come back and haunt him. Another flick of his wrist hid his wand once more inside his holster.

A soft hand was already working on the simple amber clasp at his throat. After an electrifying kiss Harry lost all thought.

_This night was certainly shaping up._

**S**

A quick kiss and a flurry of clothes later Fran was dressed.

"I had fun love." She smirked at him. "Now you'll keep this between us, won't you?"

Harry watched Fran lazily. He was tempted to just take a nap but he could just imagine the ruckus that would be raised if he were found.

"Sure." He answered. It didn't matter. Fran was already walking out the corridor. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ditz."

He hadn't any illusions that Fran wasn't using him and he her. She wanted him as a fond memory to recall during vengeful moments in her marital life. He wanted her…well he was honestly curious about sex. Too many girls were intimidated by who he was. Those he could depend on he didn't want to lose due to some romance gone bad. Plus the thought of courting girls made him almost as nervous as being Sorted.

Sluggishly he pulled on his silver robe. He figured he had given the girl enough time to find somewhere else to be.

Hopefully he could still catch the appointment of the new Minister and his Council.

Idly he wondered what would become of Fran. A girl trapped by her own design in a gilded world.

**S**

"Harry I lost you there for a while." Said Andromeda as she spotted her date. "Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?"

Harry grimaced even as he offered her his arm.

"Tonks put you up to this, didn't she? I knew she'd find a way to get back at me."

Andromeda guided him past other couples. "Nonsense Harry. Nymphadora might have mentioned your reluctance to dance and she might have said something about cheeky wizards but that has nothing to do with this."

They spun in unison. Half of Harry's mind was focused on counting the steps to the beat.

"No Harry." She murmured, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "This is for making me dress like a gilded doll. Have you any idea the number of people that have come up to me simply to look at the Black Jewels? How many men have asked if I was single? How many men, women, and mothers have come up to me to ask if you are involved with anyone?"

They spun again. Harry stumbled over his own feet and only Andromeda's grace prevented his blunder from being any worse.

"Sorry?" Harry squeaked.

The violinist performing hit a particular long note and the couple spun again. Harry nearly misplaced his left feet with his right. He wasn't sure but he harbored a strong suspicion that the room was spinning as well.

"You will be after this." Andromeda said with wicked amusement.

Andromeda stepped forward in the beginning of another spin only to have Harry stumble into her. He tried to recover by stepping backwards and nearly tangled his foot in his robe.

"This is why only scatterbrained wizards still wear robes." Harry muttered irritably.

"Doesn't the catholic clergy wear something just as cumbersome?"

"This isn't the time to contemplate that."

Andromeda smiled pleasantly. Fortunately the song ended and Harry led his partner out of the dance floor before she could trick him into staying.

"That wasn't so awful."

Harry merely gave her a sour look. So distracted was he that he nearly bumped into a person that stopped suddenly in front of him.

"Excuse me?"

The person ignored him. Of course a second later he didn't care nearly as much as he had originally. Dumbledore had signaled the musicians' silent and now stood on a platform. A simple _Sonorous_ charm later and his voice resonated throughout the hall.

"Tonight has been a joyous occasion, a time to come together and celebrate life. We are the Great Families, the leaders of our world, and in these troubled days a new Minister must rise and unite us in a war to save our way of life from the Darkness mortal men would lead us into. We must remember our allies here and find the strength to stand together and never forget the true evil that attacks us under the banner of the Dark Lord. With the guidance of the wisest among us we name a new Minister to stand before us. We name Amos Diggory of the House of Diggory—"

Anything else Dumbledore said was lost under the applause of the over five hundred people there.

Wild applause could be heard from several over enthusiastic Lords. Under the cover of cheers Andromeda leaned close to Harry. Her face had lost all its aristocratic amusement and left a grave expression in its place.

"He's going to lynch you cousin." She whispered. "I hope you know what you are doing."

Harry gazed at the happily grinning face of Minister Diggory as he shook hands with Dumbledore and the Ministry Department Heads.

"So do I."

**S**

**AN: Guess who's back?...(Don't think too hard about it)**

**And this time no one shall foil my plot for World domination. The earth shall feel my wrath. That's enough of that.**

**This is my longest chapter (20 pages) and…wow. I never would have believed myself cabable of writing this much. I know some my characters may seem insignificant because I don't use them anymore but never fear, there's a method to my madness. By the way 'Evan Mortifer' becomes very important but…I guess you'll have to wait and see. For those that have followed my story I have sad sad news for you (not so much for me). This fic will end somewhere around 30 chapters.**

**By the way I apologize for confusing so many 'd' with 't'. It's a problem that has followed me since first-grade. I blame it on the lisp I have. I figure public education doesn't need to be blamed for that…they got enough problems. By the way I have only read the first two chapters of Book6(so i know some stuff but other than that i dont know anything. To those that correctly guessed Harry's date I'll email you the spoiler i promised in ch19. To those that didnt I'll give you one thing because you've been such good sports...there is a sequel to this fic. (laughs insanely...more power to me...I shall corrupt you all) Before I forget...i think someone wanted to use some of my 'ideas' and it's alright, i dont mind but i would appreciate a little paragraph at the bottom about how i changed your life (j/k). **

**TRIVIA:**

_**Harry's date?**_

**_You saw it—Andromeda Tonks. I loved all you're guesses .Some of them were really funny...some were a little scary (Moaning Myrtle? Trelawny?)_**

**_Can your thumb touch your wrist? (mine can)_**

REVIEW!

Review or when I rule the world I'll legally change your name to Muffy


	23. Triad of the Light

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and anything associated with Rowling and her publishers does not belong to me. If you tried to sue me I doubt you'd get much anyway. All other characters are works of my twisted mind.

**Triad of the Light**

"He's a dangerous man Harry. In the name of vengeance he can do much to hurt you." Andromeda said, a dark frown on her face. One hand cradled jeweled pins while the other poked through her hair trying to free them.

Harry remained silent. His pensive gaze settled on the passing countryside.

They were ridding the carriage out of the Keep's ground. Anti-Apparation Wards extended a good distance into the wild land.

"Can you protect yourself from him?" Her voice was harsh but Harry understood her frustration wasn't directed at him.

Harry turned to her before bringing one scarred hand to settle over Andromeda's. He laid his palm lightly on her hand, his fist clenched tightly. The ornate Potter and Black rings shinned brightly before settling—almost as if they recognized Andromeda.

"I will do what I can."

"And is that good enough? Harry…" Andromeda took a deep calming breath. "I don't understand why you would stand back and let Diggory become Minister. Morrigan is your ally, surely if you asked he would have kept Diggory out of office."

"There was no need to ask. Besides Diggory is what this world needs, at least till this war is over."

"So long as the world is safe let your life be damned?" She spat bitterly. "Sacrifice everything you are, everything you stand for just so some idiotic wizards continue their selfish bigoted existence."

Harry remained silent never once meeting furious honey eyes. "No cousin, I do everything so that I preserve as much as I can."

"Explain it to me then. How are you not becoming a pawn in someone else's chess game? Diggory, Morrigan, Dumbledore…"

Emerald eyes met her own briefly. His eyes flickered toward their joined hands. A strange sort of reluctance played out over his features before his fist opened up. A ring dropped into the jeweled pins Andromeda held.

She picked it up uncertainly. It certainly was a beautiful ring—exquisite craftsmanship. Sapphires and white opals were evenly placed around the whole of the ring. Miniscule golden strands were braided around each jewel. One particular sapphire had the golden etching of a raven inflight.Inscribed on the inside of the gold ring were runes of protection and clear-sight the like which only a Rune Master could have designed. Her magical senses weren't the most sensitive but even she could detect a heaviness that spoke of serious enchantments.

"It's beautiful." She whispered.

"It's Morrigan's."

Andromeda looked at him incredulously. "It's not possible—it can't be. This is a Family ring and only Morrigan can wear it. How Harry? How have you come into its possession?"

Harry spoke softly, his eyes never wavering from the mage light across him. "There never was a Donovan Morrigan. Upon the death of Oswald Morrigan in the late nineteenth century the Family's estate was sealed. Neither of his daughters could become Heir nor could the granddaughters claim it. Among those granddaughters born to Oswald one of them was a witch. That witch had a son—the first of that line to fill all the requirements needed to become Heir. The witch's name was Lily Evans before she became Potter."

"_Oh Harry_." Andromeda breathed out. Her free hand clutched the area over heart as if to physically calm it. "But…but you could have stopped Diggory…you could have…"

"I could have done many things. I _have_ done many things."

"You are Lord Morrigan." She repeated not quite believing it. "Then why allow Diggory into office? Your power as Black, Potter, and Morrigan could have easily stopped him."

"Because he was the best choice. He will authorize Aurors to work offensively against Death Eaters. He will go after them with the same vengeance he holds toward me and when he is done his crimes will remove him from office. He will stand far enough from Dumbledore to be effective."

"You are gambling a lot by presuming to know his choices. You are betting he will be caught."

"There are people in the Council loyal to me. Besides I'm the best target out there. He will go up against me and when the time is right…he will suffer the backlash of his campaign."

"For who are you doing this?"

Harry was tempted not to answer but he knew he couldn't cling to his secrecy if he was to succeed.

"For Harry Potter."

Harry quickly continued before Andromeda could call him question his sanity. "I don't want to be Harry Potter anymore. That name has never brought me joy. My relatives despised it, the Wizarding world clings to it, and everyone that I've met has already held some notion of what they wanted me to be. I want Harry to disappear. Harry Potter must hold secrets within secrets. Don't you see? Everything that he is must be a secret."

"What does that mean?" she asked quietly. The implications that Harry would leave scared her more than she would like to admit. She didn't hold him on a savior pedestal but she did honestly care for the boy.

"Like I said Harry Potter will disappear. Cousin…have you ever seen the ocean? Have you ever taken a tour of London? Have you ever simply gone to an amusement park? I haven't. I can't without someone mobbing me or saying it's too dangerous. I'm tired cousin, so very tired." Harry said in a weary voice that belonged to someone much older.

"What to you plan on doing then?"

"I think…I would like to live." His voice was so hesitant it broke Andromeda's heart to hear it.

"I want to see the world. I want to leave Britain…maybe not forever but long enough to see beyond our convenient world."

Andromeda studied her 'cousin' intently. She knew already what her answer would be—for Merlin's sake even her Black blood called to the boy.

"Then I will do all I can to make that come true dear boy."

A lopsided smile slowly grew on Harry's face—a smile that had become rarer the older he got.

"Thank you cousin."

"What will happen to the Families?" Andromeda said bringing attention to the matter that concerned her the most.

"You will—that is if you want—remain Ambassador Black. I guess it will fall upon you to resurrect the ideals of the Black Family—the ones they held before this Dark Lord. The Blacks were once one of the strongest advocates for magical beings. I would like…I would hope Britain would emerge from the Middle Ages. Britain is the oldest home of Western wizardry; it houses the oldest Families and contains archives of priceless history. But Britain stopped moving forward centuries ago. It has become stuck in its own arrogance for so long it has stopped seeing the outside world. You've seen the inventions of the outside world—how their understanding of the universe has been expanded. I only had a primary school education but there is so much potential. Even the newer Wizarding settlements in the Americas and Australia have been made more breakthroughs in potions and spells than Britain in recent years."

"That is a beautiful wish." She said softly. Slyly she added, "You could do much if you were to lead such a campaign."

Harry's heartbeat jumped. Unsettled he glanced at his chest as if to question what was wrong with it. _Bloody Sight_ was his uneasy thought.

"I don't think I could, at least not as Harry Potter. First off I'm only seventeen years old, there's so much I need to learn…to see. Plus I think the longer I'm Harry Potter the more sanity I lose."

"I suppose…it is easy to forget you're considerably younger than my daughter."

The pair fell silent.

"I been meaning to ask you…I haven't before because I wasn't all that comfortable bringing it up but now that you know my plans I want to know something. Why are you following me?"

Andromeda studied the younger wizard oddly for a moment. There were many things she could tell him. She could tell him because he was her Lord and his word was law. She could tell him because there was an aura around him of tightly coiled power that called to her most basic instincts as a witch. She could even tell him what little Sight she had made her feel that Harry might very well be the only thing to save Magical Britain from the Dark Lord and itself. She might even tell him because when he spoke he made her see it was possible to dethrone the many Banes of the Magical World.

"You are a very special wizard Harry and even more special boy. I see a great potential in you as does everyone that meets you. You are a force of change. You don't want to do any of this; you don't want to meet what destiny throws at you but you will and you will do so brilliantly. The Wizarding World will remember what we were and move past what we are."

Harry smiled slightly, his cheeks coloring in the gloom. Apparently he approved of what Andromeda said and even agreed with it.

"What about Potter and Morrigan?" she asked.

"I'll find the appropriate people…I think those wizards could really warm up to Valein." He smirked.

**S **

_It was Harry's first Quidditch game. His stomach was somewhere near his throat and his hands were clamped sweaty hands around his broomstick. One of the Weasley twins called out a greeting—he sported a maniacal grin as he whacked a bludger toward a Slytherin Chaser…_

…_he was falling. The snitch was almost within his grasp—it was his! His breath was knocked out—and incredibly he had swallowed the snitch. Wild cheers echoed on the pitch._

_He spat it out and raised it in triumph. Turning he met the empty stands. The air was void of any players as well. He was alone._

"_You shouldn't be here." Harry turned and spotted a woman behind him. A white sundress fluttered in nonexistent wind. Auburn hair was loose around a pale face; black eyes studied him carelessly._

"_What?"_

"_You shouldn't be here." She repeated._

"_Who are you?" It was almost as if he was under the Imperio curse—the world seemed far away and its concerns were faint. He didn't even have the heart to question everyone's absence._

_She shrugged._

"_Hogwarts is an old place, isn't it?"_

_Harry turned to face the suddenly distant castle. "I suppose."_

"_Magic does strange things."_

_Harry shrugged. _

"_But then again some things are older than magic."_

_The strange woman and Harry began walking toward the school. His face craned to look behind him and to his surprise the pitch was gone; the student courtyards were gone as well. Harry pushed the wooden doors open._

_The sky had darkened and torches lit the empty hallways. Their footsteps echoed against the hard stone surface._

_The woman's onyx eyes glanced down one hallway expectatively._

"_We're late." She whispered, her face curiously sad. "They've forgotten already."_

**S**

It wasn't exactly a noise nor was it anything discernible. Harry couldn't even call it a feeling. The only thing he knew was that sometime after he had fallen asleep something startled him awake.

Alone in his room at the Leaky Cauldron Harry couldn't help but stop the chill that crept up his spine. Something was wrong.

Taking a slow breath Harry expanded his magical senses. It didn't help that nearly everything in the room had been bespelled—from the artificial intelligence runes on the mirror to warming charms on the blankets. It was too much to scavenge through the magic and it nearly overwhelmed him when he did try. On impulse he 'tweaked' his senses and searched for life signs. Releasing a pulse of magic he 'heard' it resonate past him and through his walls. Besides the thirteen spiders in his room there were two figures in the hallway. Abruptly he pulled back. They had lost the element of surprise but that didn't stop them from being any less dangerous. And just because a wall separated them didn't mean they couldn't see him. Mad Eye Moody would be the first to agree.

Harry shifted in his bed, his hand casually trailing under his head till it was under his pillow and wrapped securely around his holly wand.

The lock on his door creaked. Harry twisted his body till he was at the very edge of the bed and if need be he could roll to the ground.

A sliver of torchlight spilled into the room as the door opened. He kept his body relaxed but ready to spring into action. Low murmurs echoed in the night's silence.

He resisted the urge to snort it disbelief. They did _not_ send these two buffoons after him—granted he _was_ a seventh-year student.

The light grew larger and this time a figure was outlined. They paused. Harry's hand tensed.

The door banged against the wall—the noise muffled by a silencing charm. Red light whizzed toward the lone bed and a second later pillow stuffing filled the air. Harry knees slammed into the ground—his wand already returning fire.

_Stupefy_—one of the figures fell, the other dived near a dresser—_Stupefy. Helix. Tarantallegra. Rictusempra._

Harry never spoke out loud. His will focused on the spells structure as it was. His opponent dodged the beams of light as best he could. Unfortunately for him he couldn't identify the spells and was forced to dodge what could have been a tickling charm or a _crucio_. Harry tried not snicker as his opponent grew a pink afro.

Unfortunately for Harry his opponent wised up. He seemed to remember he was dodging an attack from a 'student'. Time to up the ante.

"_Protego_." His attacker defended.

_Silencio. Stupefy. Serpensortia dormin. Serpensortia dormin. Serpensortia dormin. _Three decent sized serpents erupted from his wand even as his first spells dissipated after striking the shield. The snakes were conjured serpents equipped with a powerful sedative in their fangs.

**: Separate. Attack him:**

A quiet gasp echoed in the silence. His poor opponent seemed to have forgotten exactly who they were dealing with.

_Oscurio_. Complete darkness enveloped the pair. Harry's magical senses expanded to locate his attacker. In the process he learned two of his snakes were dead. The last slithered against the dresser shielding his midnight intruder.

A beam of colorless magic left his wand. Harry tucked his head and screwed his eyes shut. A second later the dark room erupted as a fairly powerful timed-_Lumos_ activated near his opponents face—causing the man (if it was a man) to yelp in pain. Temporarily blinded (and anyone exposed to light in complete darkness cannot help but be blinded) his opponent was unprepared for the snake that struck an unprotected arse. A second later Harry was snidely satisfied as a sound thump hit the ground.

Timed spells were among the hardest branches of magic to learn—naturally Harry took to it like baby bird to flight. After a few near splats he got the hang of it. Timed magic was a mix of enchanting and goblin magic. Technically it wasn't enchanting since the spell-work wasn't anchored to the physical plane. Without even a basic understanding of goblin magic dealing with time (a mind boggling subject if Harry ever saw one) the timed spells would dissipate as quickly as they were formed.

**: Status: **

**: Mortal isss sssleeping:**

**: Well done:**

The snake gave a serpentine version of a purr. Harry found that slightly odd.

A flick of his fingers and various candles burst into life. The bed had been the brunt of several spells and Harry hoped Tom would forgive him the destruction of both the bed and to his glee the troublesome dresser. The walls showed various dark marks but Harry didn't worry overmuch about that. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the patrons of the Leakey Cauldron decorated the walls with spell-damage.

Two binding spells later his attackers were wrapped securely in a mass of ropes.

_Lumos. _Harry's wand lit a circle around what—he confirmed—were two unconscious men.

Both were fairly young men. There was nothing distinguishable about either of them. They were both dressed in nondescript cement-gray robes. Obviously they were the so-called 'muscle' of whatever loon that sent them. For good measure he stunned the first man again. They had probably relied on the element of surprise to capture Harry—seeing as how the latter was not at all impressed by them. While Tonks (a fairly young-looking witch) was a fierce duelerhis attacker gave the impression of youth and inexperience while the the other must have suffered a bout of over-confidence.

Harry felt his lip curl in disgust. Maybe he was spending too much time with Voldemort but then again Amos wasn't all that kiddy-friendly either.

Extinguishing the light he moved toward the opened door. The hallway was empty and the brief duel hadn't raised any attention. In all truth he was surprised the duel had barely lasted five minutes.

A pulse of magic echoed from his hand. Most of the rooms had one or two occupants. Downstairs the night bartender and several patrons lounged around. His senses weren't attuned enough to detect anything else. Whatever this new dilemma was he figured he wouldn't meet it in his nightclothes.

Three different locking charms later he pulled on his plain black robes. Levitating the two figures he dumped them one on a chair the other on the ruined bed.

_Enervate._

**S**

Farrell Bentley was pretty sure he'd seen worse days but at the moment he had an awful time recalling any of them. It was supposed to be an easy snatch and grab job—that's what his superior said anyway. They would go to room number eleven and snatch the Potter kid. It should have been simple. Aurors had confirmed the Potter kid and Mrs. Tonks had left together. The Night Guard at Diagon Alley had seen Potter check in at the Leakey Cauldron. A simple distraction and thebartender hadn't noticed when the Inn Ledger had been 'borrowed'. The job itself was simple. Potter was a seventh-year student after all and the product of seven different Defense professors—over half of which knew less than he did. For an Auror with the three-year apprenticeship done plus another year on the field it should have been simple. And just because it should have been simple Farrell failed to realize it wasn't.

If those iced emerald boring into his fog-filled mind were any sign all the data on Potter was severely misleading. All the spells had been fired so fast Farrell was still seeing spots even as another spell was inches away. He'd never had a chance. Potter's file hadn't contained nearly as much truth as everyone had assumed. Supposedly the kid had no formal defensive training. Whilehe'd been a rumored Parseltongue Potter had never been seen speaking the tongue. His class work wasn't remarkable and though a teacher of an unofficial Defense club his involvement had tapered off in recent times. His superior had scoffed at bringing in the kid and sent two lower level Aurors in his stead.

_Bet he'll regret that_, Farrell thought snidely. Blinking at his captor he couldn't help but add a stray thought. _So do I._

"Now, now. Look what I've caught. Two fellows have wandered into my room and I find myself at a loss at what to do with them. I suppose it would help if I knew their names and why they are here…" Potter smiled deceptively.

Farrell smiled weakly. He was whishing to the Great gods he could be anywhere but there. How come no one ever said the Potter boy was so…freaky up close.

"Who are you?" The wand leveled out near his throat.

"F-Farrell Be-Bentley." Farrell said trough a dry throat.

"Very good. Who sent you?"

Perhaps it was a sign of how rattled Farrell was that it didn't even cross his mind to lie. To be fair he was still inexperienced in the field and under the direct supervision of his partner—who was still knocked out. A position Farrell envied right about then.

"I really think you should let us go. Wh-Where Aurors and your presence is requested by the Minister."

Harry raised an eyebrow. His features remained as impassive as ever and he knew he was unnerving the bound man.

"Strange, most meetings with our dear Minister would be during more reasonably hours. And they definitely wouldn't involve an Auror escort. I'm a curious fellow Farrell—may I call you Farrell?—I find myself wondering why I would be called and I think you my dear fellow must _have_ some idea."

"I-I have no idea. Honestly!" The wand trailed a pattern around his throat. He wasn't sure if that was worse or not. Potter could easily cast silent spells and now he wouldn't even know if a well-placed _Reducto _would off him.

"I don't quite believe that Farrell."

"I don't know!" Farrell squeaked. "They just told me to bring you to Halber Manor. The Minister wanted a meeting as soon as possible."

"Now Mr. Bentley," Farrell didn't particularly like how his name was said. "You understand my position, no? Plenty of people would love to get their hands on me. You can understand why I'm not so keen on the thought of accompanying two unknown wizards that claim they're Aurors—especially when they aren't wearing their Auror robes."

"This was supposed to be a discreet mission! Didn't want to attract any attention." Farrell babbled much to his embarrassment.

The wand at Farrell's throat forced him to meet glowing emerald eyes. They were possibly the most fascinating—and disturbing—thing he'd seen. Dark shadows would trail ambiguous paths over jeweled orbs. Those eyes held nothing of innocence or mercy—rather they had a cold calculation that left him wondering if being an Auror was the right career for him after all.

Harry for his part was busy diving through the surface thoughts of Farrell. While it didn't bother him much having confirmed the Ministry indeed had an 'extensive' (to their knowledge) file on him what truly conserned him was the knowledge that orders had reached these two Aurors to bring Harry Potter. And not just any Aurors. These two were part of a division not under the Department of Magical Law. Rather they were the Minister's Personal Guard. Bentley, Harry concluded, was a new recruit who'd been sent more as an observer than any real backup. It was the other fellow—Burle Ross—who was the man to keep an eye out. In what would be vastly embarrassing Ross had been stunned while his inexperienced partner floundered in the aftermath.

Officially (as officially as this unofficial mission could get) Farrell knew nothing. Unofficially Farrell was the mousy sort of chap that was easily overlooked—as a consequence he had overheard several other members of the Minister's Guard had been send to fetch Headmaster Dumbledore and several other secretaries.

Farrell had fallen silent but Harry continued to stare pensively at the Auror. The Minister was scheming against him. He could do worse than meet with them. But he wouldn't walk into a trap in the middle of the night. It would be at least two more weeks before school began and in the meantime if he went missing no one would know. Perhaps the most reassuring thing out of this whole mess was a secret that bound Dumbledore and Harry as allies even against the Minister. They were the only two that knew of the prophecy and the fate it dictated. Dumbledore would do all he could to ensure Harry survived to meet it.

"Nothing personal." Harry told the Auror idly.

"N-no! Please no!" The wand was brought directly in front of Farrell.

_Stupefy. _He stupefied the other Auror for good measure as well.

Concentrating on a link his _nutius_ phoenix appeared at Harry's side—called from whatever plane the thing disappeared into.

The dresser had complementary parchment and several quills that had seen better days. He quickly wrote a note to be delivered immediately.

_Amos, _

_If you don't hear from me in 24-hours inform my contacts and petition my disappearance. If worse comes to worse release the story to papers. Have gone to meet Minister at Halber Manor. _

_Harry_

**S**

_Serpensortia dormin_.

**: Wrap around the mortal's neck. Bite on my command.:**

_Ennervate._

Farrell awoke with a gasp. He was quite honestly surprised to find himself relatively all right. Although he might have counted his luck too early if the snake wrapped around his throat was any sign.

"Glad to see you awake Mr. Bentley. I have been thinking you know, and I figure if our esteemed Minister wanted to see me so urgently, who am I to disappoint?"

"You'll come?" Farrell asked incredulously.

"I suppose I will…but you must understand that I don't trust you. So this is what will happen. You will escort me to the Keep and should you feel foolish and try any stunts my pet here will take care of you. I must warn you…Sleeping potion isn't the only things these serpents can inject."

Farrell paled. "Of course. We'll have to leave the building's anit-apparation wards though. A-and you need to wake Ross."

Harry glanced at the unconscious man. Based on Farrell's memories Burle Ross was the Auror to watch. If he were woken Harry would no doubt have a hard time subduing him.

_Wingardium Leviosa_. The Auror's body floated alongside them. Harry retrieved his faithful Invisibility Cloak from his knapsack and flung it over the floating body. He stuffed his other garments into his bag—the nightclothes and the dress robes.

"Don't worry about it."

"Of course." Farrell said nervously, his mind already moving on ahead at the laughing stock he would become—beaten by a student. Plus Ross would be in a surly mood for years after this.

Together they walked into the hallway and into the Alley.

It was nearing 2 am and the Alley was empty of all save a few cloaked wizards and the Night Patrol. Moving into a shadow Harry placed a hand on Ross and prepared his body for a group apparation. They always took a toll. A second later the shadowy area was empty.

**S**

The greatest battles ever fought are against yourself. Simply put you are the greatest enemy you will ever have. That doesn't mean an outside force can't use your own fears against you. And that is the key to intimidation. The moment you have someone doubting themselves you have won.

So, theoretically speaking of course, if you sent two goons to retrieve someone, had them knocked out and later woken in a different setting; that would effectively create the impression of an imbalance of power in your favor. And theoretically that should work to unsettle someone.

Unfortunately for Minister Diggory none of that went according to theory. Neither did the two 'goons' retrieve their quarry nor did they subdue him. On the contrary their 'quarry' was brought to the Keep but only under his own will. The Aurors sent on that mission didn't fair as well as was expected if the fact that one was unconscious and the other in the process of developing a phobia against snakes was any sign.

Harry tucked his Invisibility cloak into his bag. They had arrived in the same dusty room as before. Farrell led them down a stone hallway and into a parlor. It was a darkly ornate room; the furniture was possibly dated from the last time the Wesley Family had lived there. Even so it was a comfortable room—not that the occupants were at all comfortable themselves. Diggory paced across the fireplace—his face pulled down in a frown. Dumbledore sat on one of the chairs, his hands holding a teacup he must have conjured even as he hummed a tuneless song. Against the wall two Upper Secretaries passed the time by going over a stack of papers they must have seen a dozen times already.

"Good evening Harry." Dumbledore said pleasantly—not at all disturbed by the circumstances or the Auror floating in front of him.

"Mr. Potter is there a reason my Auror is unconscious?" Diggory said, his face displeased.

"I did not agree with the method they thought to use to bring me here." Harry shrugged, taking a seat with as much as grace as teenager could—very little.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. However I would appreciate it if you would release these men."

Casually Harry banished the ropes that held them. Lowering Ross on to the ground Harry threw a silent _ennervate_ at him. The Auror woke with a gasp.

"Good evening Mr. Ross." Harry said snidely from his chair besides Dumbledore.

The Auror got up slowly, his face contorted into a snarl directed at the impetuous child that caught him off guard. A slow flush was spreading from his neck upwards.

"I don't believe anything we have to discuss will require Auror, will it?" Harry challenged Diggory.

The Minister's face had a distinctly sour look on his face. "Of course not. Men, you are dismissed."

Ross practically stomped out. Farrell on the other hand stiffly remained standing in front of them.

"Potter…if you wouldn't mind?" Farrell made jerking motion toward his neck.

"Hmm…of course." Extending a hand toward Farrell the conjured snake raised his head in interest.

**: Come to me: **Harry hissed. The Minister and his Secretaries shuddered while Dumbledore merely regarded Harry with interest. This was possibly the first time the former had heard that tongue spoken by the latter.

"I don't believe this meeting will require…any of your parlor tricks." Diggory said distastefully.

"Call me sentimental. This serpent has proven to be incredibly helpful so far." The snake curled around his neck. "But that does bring up an interesting point Minister…what will this meeting require?"

"Excellent point Harry; I find myself curious as well."

Diggory cleared his throat uncomfortably. Glancing at his Secretaries he seemed to gain strength from some hidden source.

"Yes, yes. This isn't the time to let such matters rest. Simply put Mr. Potter's attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry no longer seems prudent for the continuous safety of the remaining students. In the past three years Mr. Potter has been directly involved in the death of two other students and has placed several others in danger as a result of confrontations with Dark Wizards."

"And this of course has nothing to do with your son." Harry nearly spat, not at all concerned about just interrupting the Minister. Harry figured if he wanted a clandestine meeting at two in the morning the man should accept his foul mood with grace. Diggory's eyes narrowed angrily and Dumbledore placed a claming hand on his shoulder.

"As I was saying the risks Hogwarts incurs in housing Mr. Potter are too great to warrant sanctuary. As such Mr. Potter will henceforth be withdrawn from the school roles."

"On whose bloody authority!" Harry snarled. The only reason he hadn't jumped up was because of the surprisingly strong grip the Headmaster had on his shoulder.

"I think we should calm down gentleman. Expulsion seems a little harsh Mr. Diggory. Surely you must understand that Hogwarts is the safest place for Harry. If he were to leave school grounds his safety could not be guaranteed."

"He certainly faired well-enough tonight."

"True," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but young Harry here carried several security measures that were only designed to be used temporarily. You yourself suffered the loss of a dear young life, if Harry were to leave Hogwarts I fear much the same fate may befall him."

The Minister turned away from them, his eyes darkening. "At what cost? Shall Hogwarts protect him down to the very last student? How many will die the moment You-Know-Who decides Potter will be his? Are you prepared to tell any more parents their children are dead?"

Dumbledore looked so much older as he gazed at the back of the Minister.

"And what would we gain if Harry were to be expelled? Without the necessary skills he will never be able to stand against those that wish his life. Are you prepared to condemn him?"

Diggory spun,grey eyes locked on Harry. He had never noticed that Cedric had the same eyes as his father. "Are you prepared to condemn the rest of the students?"

"They face much the same risks even if Harry was not there. All those that refuse Voldemort will become his targets just as all those that fall under his sway risk his service the longer Voldemort holds power."

"Regardless the life of over five hundred students must take precedent over one…lucky boy."

"If you are so concerned about their lives, what will you do to ensure them?" Harry finally asked. Thoughts on his expulsion seemed somewhat unreal to him but not at all unwelcome. It wasn't that he wanted or needed to be at the school but more like Hogwarts had been his home for so long it was like losing a part of himself. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. Not that he would admit that to the other two.

"I will do whatever is in my power to ensure the safety of Hogwarts. As it is an Auror squad will be permanently deployed there to ensure the school and the village's safety."

_At least it isn't Dementors this time_. More than one person thought.

"Dumbledore since you have such an interest in Mr. Potter's education then I'm sure the Order could spare several members to teach the boy."

Dumbledore fell silent, seriously considering the proposal. Perhaps it was time Harry was guided in proper defensive techniques. Harry on the other hand paled at the thought. That would definitely mean confinement at Grimmauld Place under the supervision of people that had no qualms about reporting to Dumbledore. In such close quarters it would become impossible for Harry to hide the true extend of his abilities and honestly, he didn't trust the whole Order to keep his secrets…secret. He might rarely be allowed to leave Hogwarts but there was no way he would willingly confine himself to Grimmauld Place.

Harry abruptly stood up, shrugging of the hand of the Headmaster. He walked toward one side of the mantle before leaning against it.

"Never think for a moment that I believe your reasons Mr. Diggory." Harry said coolly, his mind operating in a detached state. "I find myself particularly curious if you made sure this was your first executive order. However I'll leave such speculation for another day. I don't know what you hope to accomplish but I suspect the results of this won't be to your liking."

"What are you getting at boy?"

"Manners Mr. Diggory. I do belong to the body of Wizards that voted you in. Remember this…if not for my favor you would never have become Minister."

Diggory sneered at him. "You arrogant child, do you think just because you are the Boy-Who-Lived your whim controls the Wizengamot?"

Harry paid him no mind. "I don't control anyone that doesn't want to be controlled. But I wonder what would have happened had Gryffindor or Morrigan voiced their disapproval over your nomination."

Dumbledore had nearly jumped at the mention of Gryffindor—only his years preserved his dignity. Even so he had to control his urge not to question Harry directly. No one knew him to be brother to the Lord Gryffindor and he would rather not answer any uncomfortable questions over the forbidden title. If only his blasted brother magically swornAlbus never to contact him the last time they met.

"And they'll listen to you?" scoffed the Minister.

"To an extend, yes…they will. Haven't you heard? Gryffindor named an Heir and passed on the Family responsibility. The Gryffindor Family has found much in common with Morrigan and I've had the fortune of seeing it all personally. Their level of trust in the Ministry is not something you as Minister would be comfortable with."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, calm yourselves. We are straying from the topic at hand and I'm sure this night has been long enough for all of us."

Diggory cleared his throat; valiantly pretending he hadn't just engaged in a verbal fight with a student. On the other hand Harry's face fell into an emotionless mask as intelligent emerald eyes swiftly studied his next course of action.

"I will withdraw from Hogwarts on the condition my records indicate it was a voluntary withdrawal." Harry proposed. It didn't require much thought to know Dumbledore wouldn't push too hard for his continuous attendance. The Headmaster wasn't about to alienate the Minister, especially if they were in the middle of a war.

"Hogwarts can only accept voluntary withdrawals if you already have suitable plans for continuing your education." The Minister said condescendingly.

Harry steeled himself against the man. What he wouldn't do to be able to deck the man. "This is why you will also accept a request for home-schooling. As I understand a great many wizards and witches employ that avenue instead of more traditional schooling."

"I'm sure the Minister has the power to grant you that request." Dumbledore assured. Diggory scowled but agreed to the condition. "Just as I'm sure Harry will allow me to provide the necessary instructors till such a time as he is prepared for his NEWT examinations."

A dark smile filtered past Harry's face so quickly neither saw it. "Of course Headmaster."

"Excellent gentlemen." Dumbledore beamed at the both of them, possibly joyful that he managed to gain himself some concessions and brought their disagreement to a conclusion. "Now all we need are the papers."

One of the Secretaries that had been sitting petrified against the wall handed them a paper. Diggory passed it to Dumbledore who passed it to Harry. Basically it was a withdrawal request already filled with his personal date. The other Secretary handed him a quill.

"I will sign this only after you sign a home-school request." Harry bargained.

"Don't trust me?" taunted the Minister.

"Of course." Harry answered eerily calm, this time both saw his dark smile, "and I don't believe I ever will."

Harry signed both forms and handed them over so Dumbledore could affix the last signature.

"Done." Diggory said with an air of finality. His two Secretaries practically bolted from the room. Nothing this side of Hades would convince them to return to a room with three headstrong men at odds with each other.

"Our business is concluded." Harry's dark smile grew.

"I shall escort you to Headquarters then. I'm sure we can procure an instructor for you by the end of the holidays." Dumbledore informed him.

"And I shall accept instruction so long as I need it to pass my NEWTs." Harry finished. "But I don't believe I ever agreed to go to Headquarters. Furthermore NEWT preparation won't be needed. I am sufficient prepared as it is."

"Harry I know you are a brilliant student but the NEWTs encompass so much more material than you can imagine. The last term of school will be particularly vigorous for your classmates. I feel it best you receive some instruction so you remain on par with your year."

"You foolish boy." Diggory exploded with ill contained exasperation. "You are being expelled because of the danger you pose to the students. And now you propose to put other people in danger by openly mingling in their lives? Where will you hole up? Will you go to Diagon Alley and wait for Dark Wizards to chase after you there?"

"Grimmauld Place is the safest place for you Harry. If anything the assassination attempt should have convinced you the stakes placed on your life." Dumbledore said gently, his face softening into grandfatherly concern. "You can also learn the necessary skills needed for this war…think about it carefully. You can learn the skills needed to adequately protect those around you."

Harry snarled at what was possibly two of the strongest wizards (politically as well as magically) in Magical Britain. He leapt forward to pace less he direct his energy to less than appreciated avenues. His fists reflexively tightened and relaxed as he tried to control the urge to throw something. Dimly he wondered where he picked that habit up; Merlin knows Petunia never allowed him such childishness.

"Train!" Harry calmed his agitation. Just the thought of being locked away at Grimmauld Place brought to mind memories he'd thought he had dealt with. His voice dissolved into coldness, his tone clipped in impatience. "You want me to train? I stopped being a child easily placated by promises long ago; stop treating me as such. This training isn't about protecting anyone. It's just the first step needed for me to actively start fighting against Voldemort. But I guess you don't care about the consequences, do you?"

Diggory blinked at the sudden realization that the conversation had wandered into areas he was ignorant of.

Dumbledore's gentle demeanor faded and the power of his many years shinned through. The Minister was mildly offended the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot would play intimidation games with a mere boy.

The boy in question was unruffled. "Tell me Headmaster, will I survive should Voldemort die?" There was a sort of twisted joy in asking such questions since both knew the answer.

"That is not something any of use can reasonably answer."

"But you suspect you know what the answer will be." Harry hounded the Headmaster as he cornered Dumbledore to admit what they both knew. "I was an infant when Voldemort's mind became tangled with mine own. Should he die there is no guarantee I will survive much less remain sane."

Dumbledore's face tightened with as much admission as he seemed willing to give. Diggory took it as such anyway.

Amos Diggory recoiled from Harry, his face horrified. "You! You and that monster. Th-that means soul magic links you two…."

Harry scrutinized the Minister harshly--which was why Harry was already rolling toward the ground when Diggory spoke.

"…_Reducto_! Hold still boy!" screamed Diggory.

"Calm yourself Minister Diggory!" Roared Dumbledore, wrinkly hands planted on his chair in a half-hearted attempt to stand.

"Leave this be Dumbledore. The longer the boy lives the more power you allow You-Know-Who to possess. Don't you see? You-Know-Who could be weakened if not destroyed the moment the connection is broken…This could be the end of the war!"

Harry didn't waste time listening to his rant. Both wrists flicked and a second later his holly wand as well as a dagger fell neatly into his palm. The dagger danced across his palm and flew toward Diggory. The steel blade snagging the Minister robe and embedding itself into the wall.

_"Expelliarmus_." Diggory's wand sailed through the air and Harry carefully pocketed it. "It seems you can't be trusted with dangerous tools so I hope you don't mind but I'll be holding your wand till you can control yourself. What hope do you have of ending this war if you can't even say Voldemort's name? You're already losing the battle when you give him your fear on a silver platter."

Diggory seemed to regain some of his composure; some part of him must have realized he was the only one in that room not using Voldemort's name. His breathing was still a bit more rapid than normal but he was prudent enough not to make the situation worse by mentioning the dagger embedded near his thigh.

"And Minister? Never raise a wand against me. Your son was a wonderful boy but there is no bloody way I'll let you strike me to suit whatever notion of penance you think I should have. I didn't kill your son…" Harry never moved brilliant eyes from Diggory's face. "In fact Cedric's killer was caught weeks ago but our former Minister buried records of his trial under months of paperwork."

"Who…" Diggory's strangled voice choked out, his body sagging as if he had been physically struck. Harry suspected Diggory had never been informed of all that happened that night—not like Harry ever said everything about that night to begin with.

"Peter Pettigrew of course, presumed dead sixteen years ago, hid out for thirteen years as an illegal rat animagus before rejoining his Master. His criminal record should include the betrayal of the Potter and the framing of Sirius Black but I doubt he would have been questioned on Cedric's case. Fudge wasn't all that keen to know any of this much less learn anything he might have done in the time since his capture."

"Is it true Albus? Does the Ministry have Pettigrew?" The Minister's voice was soft compared to his former temperament.

Dumbledore nodded gravely though Harry suspected the former wouldn't be admitting he had been at that trial any time soon. "It is true."

"Gods above." Breathed Diggory, his qualm with Harry seemingly forgotten or perhaps he gave it up as best forgotten as he was currently defenseless.

"I haven't forgotten the conditions you want either Headmaster. I will not be going to Grimmauld Place. I am of age and perfectly capable of handling myself. You can't expect me to believe you've been ignorant of all the times I left school ground last summer? And never was I found." Harry smirked at the Headmaster. "My death is not something I will resign myself to as easily as you have and I won't ever make myself a sacrifice for the vaulted innocence of others…So it seems this will be where our paths must part."

"Harry I cannot allow you to endanger yourself." Dumbledore said sternly, finally standing up to face Harry directly.

Hooded emerald eyes observed the other man carefully. "And what will you do? What powers have you over me?"

Dumbledore fell silent, his position as Headmaster inconsequential in asserting power over him he realized belatedly. Harry let the matter settle in silence.

"Enough of this!" Diggory said to himself, somehow ignoring the confrontation between the other two wizards. He tore his robes in order to free himself from the dagger but Harry doubted he noticed at all. He moved toward the parlor doors and flung them open.

"Fullbright! Arrange an Auror escort. We're going to the Ministry!"

"Yes sir. Ross, Kipling, Cole, and Bentley, escort the Minister. Wallis and Clemens with me. We'll escort our guests home."

Fullbright was a blond-haired, steel-eyed man. He easily commanded the attention of everyone present. The man gave off the sense that he was trained by Mad-Eye Moody himself.

Fullbright glanced at Harry disdainfully. Harry couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to offend this time. The Auror nodded toward his fellows and signaled them to come forward.

"Professor Dumbledore please allow Auror Wallis and Auror Clemens to escort you out of the wards and home."

"Nonsense my boy. I've still plenty of fight in me for anyone unlucky enough to stumble upon me."

"Begging your pardon sir but its procedure."

"If you insist young man. Lead the way." The Headmaster's voice echoed down the hallway. "Lemon drop gentlemen?"

That left Fullbright and Harry alone.

"I will be escorting you Mr. Potter." Harry frowned in displeasure. He didn't like this Auror at all—but then again he didn't like many Aurors to begin with. "Your…tricks won't work on me I assure you. Auror Ross got careless, a mistake I assure you he won't dream of repeating."

"I don't need an escort and I doubt you want to do much escorting." Harry said flippantly as he retrieved his dagger from the wall. He really nailed it in there. One harsh tug pulled it free. A piece of the Minister robe still hung of the edge. Standing, he discretely pocketed the rag and dagger, his hand ghosting over a wand he forgot to return.

"Needless to say I still have a job to do."

Harry sighed. "It's been a long night. I don't have the patience to deal with whatever tick you have on your shoulder. Don't mess with me unless you are prepared to deal with the consequences."

Fullbright scoffed in amusement. "You don't have it in you Potter. Otherwise you would have already been fighting the Death Eaters instead of hiding behind your status."

Harry nearly gagged. He wondered if it was something special about himself that managed to attract all the psychos. Not that that would stop him from goading the Auror.

He walked toward the other man. Harry leaned in close—a twisted smiles the last thing Fullbright saw.

"No one knows everything I'm capable of and you know less than most. Don't test your luck on me."

Calmly Harry walked back toward the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantle. He glanced once at Fullbright in amusement, a smirk growing on his face…

...and then disappeared.

**S**

**AN: I read a lot of awesome reviews and I wish I could reply to them all…on that note I would like to say if Prometheus conquers the world I get to be Vice Tyrant. But if I conquer the worldfirst every Tuesday becomes take a sock-to-work day.**

**I hope I'm not being too transparent (because that's never a good thing…everyone will see my insides) but a lot of you (I guess…those that reviewed anyway) made speculations on what will happen and a surprising number were correct.**

**Also a surprising number of people liked Fran (why?...I was trying to make her as shallow as I could.) But I will make this statement: since when is Harry emotionally mature enough to deal with a child? You can draw your own conclusions from that. But I admit she was fun to write.**

**By the way yip yip hurray for all the double jointed people out there! It grosses a lot of people out when they see it—particularly since my knuckles invert down instead up.**

**Ted Tonks is a muggleborn wizard in canon but not here. I can only excuse myself by saying…I forgot? And now I'm too lazy to rewrite it…so deal with it?**

**_TRIVIA:_**

**_Anyone notice two items Harry acquired this chapter?_**

**_What's your favorite candy?...mine is Baby Lucas—a sour mango powder that burns your taste buds off for a good week_.**

**Review! Review! Every time you don't review a little fairy dies somewhere.**

**Review…only a few chapters left. (evil laugh)**

**TBC (means To Be Continued)...**


	24. The Lady's Chosen

Disclaimer: you know it. I dont own it.

**The Lady's Chosen**

The drink burned down his throat as his eyes watered. The bartender refilled his glass with a simple nod and nary a word exchanged between the pair. Harry wasn't much of a drinker so he'd simply asked for something that would make an alcoholic sober up.

Gods help him—he needed a drink.

He'd actually done it. He'd left Hogwarts. Somehow…he had imagined the day in a completely different setting. Ron would be besides him, his entire family celebrating ickle Ronniekins' commencement, Neville smiling proudly, his grandmother at his side. Theodore Nott would be sporting a cool smile as the youth was already thinking of the family business, Daphne Greengrass besides him smiling in exasperation. Luna Lovegood would be telling him he was now qualified to hunt something as odd as Tentacled Chicken. The rest of the Gryffindor boys would be procuring enough fire-whiskey that none of them would remember the night to come. Hermione would be cross-referencing the Hogwarts library and her NEWT examination answers. Ginny would be just as exited as the seventh-years.

It was nothing like that.

Harry had withdrawn from Hogwarts having never taken his NEWTs. He was alone at a bar drinking something that would make vampires spit fire. He had three wands on him: one holly wand brother to Voldemort, one illegal wand with enough parts of creatures to be considered a subject of France, and one wand belonging to England's Minister. He had enough daggers on him to make anyone that attacked him a pincushion. But most of all he was alone. Truthfully if he wanted to he could have gone to the Burrow, or to the twins' place at Diagon Alley, or even back to Andromeda's house. Harry paused—he rewound his last thought.

_Merlin_, he rubbed his face tiredly, _he needed to get out more. _

A body slid on the stool next to him. Harry paid it no mind. His fringe neatly hid his scar and without his trademark glasses few recognized him. Anyone subject to the Creevy brothers would have long figured out a method to avoid cameras. It wasn't so much that Harry could escape every candid camera out there. He ended up banking on wizard shortsightedness. By creating a simple counter spell to one of the key steps in animating magical photography and casting it on himself he ended up as nothing but a blurry figure in photos. The spell served to negate the charms designed to 'catch' a subject's personality. It wouldn't prevent Muggle cameras but since when were Wizards logical enough to downgrade to the lifeless version? As a consequence there hadn't been an accurate picture of him since he was a scrawny fifth-year.

"You alright there kid?" Harry glanced at his companion. She was a beautiful woman—not like that meant anything. Master vampires were mostly beautiful as a survival method meant to lure their 'prey' as were Veelas. Upper caste wizards tented to cultivate beauty as part of their pedigree. This woman was normal in that respect. Thick black hair was cut and styled wildly in something resembling Harry's wild mop on a bad day. Blood red lips were quirked in a smirk. Heavy-lidded eyes framed the trademark yellow eyes of a vampire.

Harry shrugged in response to the woman's original question. His time with Amos had virtually made him immune to a human's natural draw to a vampire.

"Not the worst day I've had but it certainly left a lot to be desired."

"Care to talk about it love?" She asked sympathetically, her face soft with compassion. Harry glanced at her again, this time meeting kind brown eyes. Despite himself he couldn't contain the snicker that bubbled from his mouth.

"Love, I'm not in the mood to wake up with a sore neck."

Her eyes looked decidedly more interested in him. She gave him a fanged smile. "Don't knock it till you try it. I hear it's really a wild experience; some blokes love it."

Harry snorted. Bracing himself he took another mouthful of his eye-watering, hair-curling drink.

"Should I count myself lucky that you've graced me with your presence?"

"Most definitely." She purred, her eyes dissolving into yellow pools. "Despite what you seem to think it really is a wicked ride to spend the night with me. Many would envy you the opportunity."

Harry swiveled his bar stool till he was facing her. Swiftly his eyes scanned the bar and there were indeed several people watching them with interest. Harry scrutinized the vampire before him looking for what exactly threw interest. She wasn't anymore beautiful than any other vampire in the bar. He knew instinctively she was a seductress on a level that surpassed most vampires. Amos had never exuded her aura—but then again he was an old one and this woman hadn't the aura to indicate great age. Either she was was/knew someone of value or she possessed the same luck Harry did. Personally he was betting on the former.

She was dressed in an open silk robe with tight Muggle clothes underneath. A black choker and several silver necklaces played in the space above her low neckline. A particular necklace caught his attention. A hexagon with the Night Sangria Bloom at its center, blood red pedals unfurling and touching the bases. The Night Sangria was a magical flower that went by many names, most of which marked it unfavorably. It was a strong raw poison and when filtered properly and given in time it was the only thing that could counter a vampire's curse. Despite its practical applications the plant had nearly been hunted to extinction. It bloomed rarely and released spores that could live for years just as fatally potent as the day they had been spawned. But it wasn't its practical application that stopped him short. The Night Sangria was the symbol of Clan Aknor—one of the major vampire clans in the world. They were children of the Babylonian Belshazar, a particularly notorious vampire even within his kind. Currently the ruling Elder was Belshazar's great-grandchilde, Zarek Ladislas—a brilliant man that headed a clan that spanned several continents. He had several children that ruled the Clan in his name but only one of which he himself fathered, a daughter named Liadan Ladislas. Born vampires were rare enough that Elder Ladislas had been surprised to have fathered a child after more than a century of trying. The magic sparked when a vampire procreated usually ended killing the fetus within days. A vampire was essentially a creature born of blood-magic and blood-magic was the most potent branch of magic. All too often fetus suffered the instability of blood-magic. Without strong-enough magical anchors the inherit magic of the fetus expanded so rabidly it can not support itself and ended draining the tiny life. As a consequence it was nearly impossible for vampires to mate with any truly powerful magical breed.

Harry had taken care to research all those who would be asked to side in this war.

Clan Aknor didn't have any major holdings in Britain—the territory held too many other vampire clans for their liking. In fact Elder Ladislas ruled from his Clan's Hold in Greece.

Which was why Harry was surprised to stumble upon Liadan Ladislas herself. Truthfully it wasn't all that hard once Harry knew what to look for. The Night Sangria was lined in gold—an ornament that didn't go without significance. A child's ring also hung from another necklace, the Night Sangria delicately crafted on its face. Not to mention several alert vampires that Harry had identified as guards, half of which were hidden by so many shadows and spells no mortal or immortal should have spotted them. But ever since Aberforth had told him of his Sight he had been able to refine some of the more delicate aspects of it, among them the same power the Headmaster had used to see through his invisibility cloak. The Sight saw more than the future.

"Pardon me if I must decline your invitation my Lady."

"Do I know you?" She asked somewhat puzzled.

"I should think not. But I know you Lady Ladislas."

Harry's trained eyes spotted Laiden's momentary stiffness.

"Who are you?" she purred but Harry detected the dangerous undertone in the vampire's velvet voice.

"No one of interest to people such as yourself." Harry said lightly as he turned back to his drink.

"You are simply turning out to be too fascinating to ignore."

Harry sighed tiredly. "I am the wrong sort to get involved with my Lady and Britain is most definitely not the best country to be visiting. I'm sure your Father would agree."

"Call it my curiosity. I've never been one to pass up a mystery."

Harry gave her a half-hearted smile, his eyes wistful. He'd been like that once. He'd lived the trill of figuring out the mysteries that surrounded him. Truthfully only first-year had been like that. By second year his motives were more self-serving; he needed to figure out the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets to clear his Parsel-speaking self.

Harry merely sighed his annoyance. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do because a second later he found himself pressed against the bar table, the Lady's body anchoring him in place.

"Tisk, tisk, tisk little boy." She pressed a cool cheek against his own. "I'm not done playing."

Harry was not pleased. He'd never been a fan of physical contact and even if he tolerated it, Liadan was not someone he wanted in such close proximity. Harry tilted his face back till he was able to meet her eyes.

"My dear vampire princess," he said softly before his voice rose coldly. "Do not involve yourself in matters best left alone."

Harry whispered something that couldn't accurately be translated into any known language. It was parselmagic at its core; the power of snakes.

The Himalayan Fire-skin snake was a magical serpent only found in high altitudes and low temperatures. It burrowed in surface ice caves and kept its cold-blooded body alive by heating compact blood vessels all over its skin. As an attack measure it would heat its body so rapidly victims would literally suffer burns from handling the serpent. Harry called upon the Fire-skin snake; rather he called upon its attack.

Magic rose within him; and the power gifted by Voldemort surged, augmented by the blood of the King of Serpents which forever would flow through his veins. Liadan sprang back; her hands and body stinging from whatever Wizarding trick the mortal boy had conjured. Her yellow eyes glowed with an almost feral instinct; her body wary and ready to strike.

From different areas in the bar three vampires closed in, the Princess' guard by the look of things. Harry didn't betray his awareness. He picked his drink up and turned to face the offended vampire.

"Who are you?" She said low, her voice calm even as her eyes betrayed the feral side of her ancestry.

Harry evaluated the situation he found himself in. He knew he probably wouldn't have reacted as harshly as he had on any other day…but this day would just not end. Frankly Harry lost most of his patience during the Winter Ball. Only he would stumble upon the obnoxious vampire-born child of a Clan Harry hadn't even bothered to contact.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Pardon my reaction but this day hasn't been anywhere near pleasant."

"You aren't nearly as sorry as you're going to be." She virtually purred. "Who are you?"

Harry glanced at her guards, one eyebrow raised in question, almost asking if she was serious. "I am many things to many people but that doesn't answer who I am."

The Lady's eyes narrowed her eyes in annoyance, chin raised she literally commanded him. "Stop playing games. What is your name?"

"My lady, would you mind if you forgot this night ever happened?"

The guards lined up around Liadan; at a glance Harry knew these were professionals. Harry supposed the Elder Ladislas wouldn't just let his daughter run around unprotected.

"Not likely wizard-child." Smirked the Lady of Clan Aknor.

Harry bit his lip to rein in a rather nasty curse, the non-magical kind. He had the inane urge to cry. Wasn't it enough? He hadn't slept in more than 24 hours and his nerves were too raw to handle much else.

"For the love of the Dark Queen I haven't the patience to deal with this. You'll leave me be...or...or…"

"Or what?" snickered Liadan.

Harry leveled a glare at the woman. The bar was mostly empty save a few vampires celebrating the predawn hours. He lifted two palms and the guards tensed. Harry never glanced at his scared palms, the half-moon scar signifying his Gryffindor adoption was pale against his flesh. Harry didn't let them wonder over long about his scars. Not when both palms burst into flame, black tentacles racing down his wrists before Harry enforced his will on it.

"Or you'll die where you stand." Harry threatened. "I warned you princess. I'm not in the mood to amuse you."

The guards had the self-preservation to look alarmed at his display but Liadan's eyes sparked with interest. Before she had just been looking for a meal, then when she'd been refused she had intended to put the mortal in his place. Rather than be alarmed at his new display of power her curiosity and interest had been peaked.

"Aren't you full of surprises." She murmured appreciatively.

Harry paused; he couldn't decide if she was just very confident or truly a twit.

"Oh blast it." Harry groaned. His head was beginning to pound and his drink was making him feel woozy. He wanted a bed and he had no idea where he would be laying down that night. He wanted the vampire-princess to leave him alone less he actually burn one of the leeches. He wasn't opposed to harming them to scare them away but he'd rather not seriously hurt them. But his reserves were quickly disappearing. His body was tired and he had a hallow feeling that only came when he pushed his limits.

"Liadan." A voice interrupted them. Harry glanced quickly at the intruder once before his eyes inadvertently returned to the man who interrupted them. It looked like the quintessential vampire had arrived. Pale skinned, dark haired, and enough black leather to confuse a cow the vampire smoothly walked till he was facing the princess. "Liadan, Sire warned you to stay away from Britain."

She had the grace to look flustered. "It's not like anything really bad could have happened. My guards were ready." She muttered sullenly.

The unknown vampire pinched his nose with the same feeling the girl had inspired in Harry. She really was a twit.

"Sire specifically ordered us to stay away from the English less we become involved in their war. He will not be pleased with you and he will most definitely not appreciate you meddling with one of Caliga's chosen."

"What?" The twit and Harry echoed simultaneously.

The vampire glanced at Harry curiously but answered all the same. "Caliga's chosen. The mark only an Elder can grant to mark his favored though I've never seen a human bear it."

The twit glanced at Harry with new interest while the latter rubbed his face half-amused half-annoyed. It was just like Amos to forget to tell him about things like that but if it made these pests go away he wouldn't begrudge the Elder's interference.

"I give up." Harry muttered heavenward. He turned to face the vampires. "I don't care anymore. I'm going to sleep and preferably forget this ever happened."

"Forgive my sister's interference." The vampire apologized, colored eyes ignoring Harry's flickering palms. "I am Faolan of Clan Aknor, childe of Zarek Ladislas. Allow me to offer you a room at a Clan manor near here."

Harry glanced suspiciously at Faolan before turning annoyed eyes on Liadan and back.

"My sister will be leaving Britain right now less our Sire be called to deal with his wayward daughter." Faolan commented to no one in particular but Harry relaxed somewhat and Liadan grew a sullen face.

Harry seriously considered the matter. It wasn't exactly an unwise choice. Aknor seemed to respect Caliga and it would probably be the safest place he could spend a couple hours in undisturbed sleep. He needed a quiet space to gather his thoughts and Faolan was willing to provide that. Harry studied the vampire carefully for a moment; every ounce of precognitive magic he possessed focused in determining if following the vampire was a wise choice.

Faolan was nearly three centuries old but nothing save his Sire's level stare could compare to the piercing feeling shadowy emerald eyes gave him. If he wasn't such an accomplished occlumens he would swear the wizard was seeing everything he was and judging him. Whatever the wizard saw must have decided him because a second later his palms fell to his sides, their fire forgotten.

"I am Harry and I thank you for your offer."

A couple stools away nursing a nearly empty bottle of fire-whisky Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher watched the small group leave the bar. A few minutes later he exited into the empty street and apparated away.

**S**

The local Clan manor was located in a quiet Muggle neighborhood. Despite his irritation Harry remained close to Liadan. The princess was oblivious to his intentions but based on the guards tenseness they weren't. If they betrayed him he would attack the only non-expendable person there. The Aknor Elder might mourn a turned child but he would balk at the death of his only trueborn daughter. Faolan walked alongside Harry giving his guards instructions in lilting Greek. Both had apparated into a nearby Alley. From there they walked a few streets into the affluent neighborhood the house was located at.

The manor itself was an elegant three-story brick-faced building. The garden was a beautiful sight but what caught Harry's attention was the number of magical healing herbs planted alongside Muggle varieties.

Even before they made it to the door it opened, spilling warm light into the still dark night.

"Welcome Master, Mistress." The Housekeeper said another vampire by the looks of things.

"Gretchen, please prepare a room for our guest and inform my brother Ghailen that Liadan will be returning to Austria."

"Right away Master."

"Mr. Harry if you would join me in the study while Gretchen settles a room for you."

Harry followed Faolan tiredly. The guards had managed to silently disappear without Harry noticing. Liadan followed them into the study as well, her face displeased.

"Drink?" Faolan poured some scotch into three glasses. "I don't quite understand how the situation deteriorated in such a manner."

Harry blinked blearily at the vampire, his head propped against the back of his chair. "The lady here was looking for a meal I believe and I admit I wasn't in the most patient of moods tonight." Harry shrugged carelessly.

Faolan took a sip of his drinks. "Would you believe that actually explains it all?"

Harry smirked half-heartedly. In the background Liadan huffed irritably while pretending to study a landscaping painting over the study's mantel.

"Would you happen to have a paper or parchment that I might use?" Harry asked absently, eyes half-closed in sleep. Faolan pulled a Muggle pen and paper from a small desk at one end of the study.

"Thank you."

Harry scribbled a few hasty lines. He clicked his fingers while simultaneously releasing a pulse of magic that would call his own _nuntius_ bird. True to form a silvery blue apparition formed before them, frozen for a second before it sprang upward and settled on Harry's shoulder. Harry gave it his message. The ice phoenix swallowed it and disappeared with another burst of silvery light. Harry leaned back into his chair and raised an eyebrow at the two wide-eyed vampires.

"What was that?" Liadan said, seemingly giving up her plan to ignore the pair.

"Humm?" Harry murmured sleepily. "Matters in Britain are…unstable. We've got idiots and imbeciles. That is a messenger magic-bird, a mutation of the _Nuntius_ charm. It is the mark of the allies of Lord Morrigan."

"My Sire had called our Clan away from Britain. He believed it too dangerous to involve ourselves with its squabbles." Faolan offered.

Harry shrugged once more; he couldn't exactly disagree with that idea. He didn't even have the energy to mind the whole war being summed up as a 'squabble'.

"Not a bad policy. This whole war is just a lot of old blood and bad blood …not that it will end that simply." Harry raised his glass and studied the amber liquid. He smirked into the liquid, his eyes distant. "Out of curiosity…what is an outsider's opinion on our 'squabble'?" He asked with a bit more coherence. He honestly found himself curious. He'd only stepped out of Britain once and that was to buy an illegal wand.

"This 'Second War' of yours?" Faolan asked, his mind busy considering what to reveal. "I normally don't come any farther than Hungary but I have heard plenty of this Lord Voldemort. A powerful wizard many hold in high esteem. He undermines the current administration by use of terror. It's my impression that the English Ministry considers itself self-sufficient and in no need of outside help. To my understanding they have not even considered him enough of a threat to announce his campaign till a year and a half ago.

"You must understand most countries in Southern Europe have no wish to be dragged into this. France and Bulgaria have always professed strong ties with the English and as you see the French Academy has already been attacked while Bulgaria sways more each day to Voldemort's policies."

Faolan paused again as he considered something. "My Sire believes it best Clan Aknor not involve itself. During the First War Voldemort pursued the vampire nations strongly. My Sire refused and those of the Clan here were hunted and killed. Still some of our brethren fell to his promises and many of them later fell to the Hunters when Voldemort's power broke."

"And what to you believe?" Harry said trying to keep sleep at bay.

"You are mortal and young but I am not. I might not have lived under Voldemort's First War but Grindlewald's campaign is not something you can forget easily. He tried to purify Western Wizardry and vampirism wasn't in his esteem. Many of my brothers and sisters fell to him. To my understanding Voldemort is a wizard begotten of worse ilk. He is a dangerous man to keep alive and should he conquer Britain I have no doubt his reign will spread across Europe."

"A great many of us wizards are too dangerous to keep alive." Harry muttered sardonically, Dumbledore and himself included in his mental list. "There are those...who stand against Voldemort or at least not with him. Should they fall then Britain belongs to him. They just have to manage from killing each other in the meantime.

"Albus Dumbledore needs to keep Morrigan and…Potter from strangling him while Potter needs to keep the Ministry and Dumbledore from shoving him in front of the warpath. The Ministry needs to keep the general public from realizing exactly how many Voldemort sympathizers exist within its ranks and what dirty tricks the former Minister pulled."

"I understand they are all quite powerful."

Harry smiled with something the vampires couldn't understand. "You've no idea."

"Master? The guest room is ready." Gretchen interrupted.

Harry didn't know how he managed to follow the Housekeeper but he did and the next thing he knew he was sinking into a bed. His hand automatically cast a proximity ward and he knew nothing else.

**S**

_The building was old. It had one tower and its windows were mere archer's slits without even a pane of glass. A high wall was divided by an interval of four guard towers that encompassed the stone structure. Around that a moat circled it. The building further stood strategically at the top of a hill in order to spot any invader._

_Harry hid among the leafy branches of the nearby forest. His position wasn't at all close to the building but he dared not approach any further. An uneasy knot twisted his stomach and he wished he could turn away from the building. His basic instincts were telling him to stay away from the Tower but all Harry could do was bury them. He was charged with surveillance. He just had to remember that. Had to ignore everything telling him it was wrong to be there; wrong to plot against the Tower._

"_Here." Harry glanced at the person speaking. It was the onyx-eyed girl again. Somehow he wasn't at all surprised to see her. He looked at what she was offering. Her right hand held a sharp silvery sword, a ruby embedded in its pommel. Her left hand offered him an ornate dagger, a silver snake twisted around the handle. She looked distinctly odd dressed in a white dress robe while offering two deadly weapons._

"_Here." She repeated. "TheKnight and the Lord. To build you must destroy, to destroy you must have built."_

"_I don't understand." He looked at her askance._

_The girl snorted. "Don't play innocent with me, not after coming this far." She turned to the building, her eyes impenetrable._

"_Betrayal begets betrayal." She murmured. "You understand that, don't you?"_

_Harry's eyes fell to the ground where the girl had stabbed the weapons. He darkly whispered to her, "I understand."_

"_I knew you would. You mustn't forget that… and they must forgive us for what we will do."_

"_What will we do?" Harry asked, baffled by her continuous riddles. To his mind she kept sprouting things she seemed to think he should know._

"_We will forget."_

_He frowned at her in annoyance but she was already moving toward the building, his presence seemingly forgotten._

"_Well come on then." She called back. "This field will be ruined soon enough. They'll lead the charge and they will win and when everything is forgotten another will come to carry the knowledge and the blood."_

"_Who will come?" Harry asked, his hands picking up both weapons. He wasn't sure if he should have picked them up but it seemed wrong to leave them behind._

"_Don't you know?" She asked perplexed, facing him fully for the first time. Her dark auburn hair was bright in the sunlight and her skin glowed with youth._

"_You will Harry."_

_**S**_

"God above." Harry gasped.

He studied his surroundings wildly before falling back into his bed. A quick spell revealed it was nearly three in the afternoon. Flinging his tangled bed sheets away from him he resisted the urge to peel his sweat-soaked bedclothes off.

Standing, he briefly admired the spacious room. Aknor definitely knew how to treat a person. Besides a large bed the room also had an old-fashioned desk in one corner and a sitting area in another. A door he hadn't noticed before let into a private bathroom decked in marble and gold.

His wanderings couldn't distract him from his dreams. They were odd, slightly disturbing, and confusing as hell. But he knew he couldn't deny his dreams as figments of an inebriated mind. Aberforth had explained his dreams would be an outlet for his Sight. Somehow, someway it was important to his future.

Sighing Harry let the matter settle. He would know soon enough. It was best for now to get dressed and find his hosts.

S 

Harry lightly opened his bedroom door. He dressed in a plain black robe he'd meant to wear for his return to Hogwarts. His Gryffindor badge had been charmed off after nearly five minutes of starring it. He'd realized never again would he wear the badge of Gryffindor as a student. That part of his life was over.

The carpeted hallway was dimly lit; large windows were covered up with heavy drapes. Various paintings of unnaturally beautiful people gazed back at him, a surprising number of them were Muggle paintings. He did catch the eye of a couple of animated portraits. Harry didn't stop to talk to them and they just looked at him hauntingly. At least he knew his presence would be announced to who ever could give him a bite to eat. He had no doubt one of portraits had already announced his presence. After all it was something he would have ordered as well.

At the bottom of the stairs the same middle-aged woman Harry met earlier waited for him.

"Sir?" She asked briskly. "The Master has stepped but he will return momentarily. Would you care for a late lunch?"

"Yes." He said shortly, a bit intimidated by her. Her sharp eyes motioned for him to follow her and Harry didn't even think of protesting.

She let him into a bright kitchen. Again he was startled by how modern it was. Truthfully he had only seen one other wizarding home and that one had belonged to an old pureblooded family. Despite its modern appearance it wasn't possible to forget it was still a magical home. The windows had all been charmed opaque to protect sensitive eyes. A broom was sweeping by itself while several dishes were washing themselves in the sink tub.

Harry sat on a bar stool while the Housekeeper bustled to prepare his meal.

"The Master and the guards have already eaten but there's plenty left over. My name is Gretchen Caldwell. I have other duties to attend to but should you need me simply say my name. Enjoy your lunch sir."

Harry blinked owlishly as the woman disappeared. He shrugged once and then proceeded to devour his lunch. He wasn't sure if it was his hunger or Gretchen's cooking but this was probably the best meal he eaten in a long time. He really didn't spend a lot of time enjoying such simple pleasures of life.

Gretchen must have possessed the same eerie sense Dumbledore had because Harry had placed the last bite of his lunch in his mouth when she entered the kitchen again.

"The Master is in the study. If you would follow me, he would like to see you."

Harry followed the Housekeeper through a short hallway; he spotted a dining room and a parlor through some open doors.

The study's windows were drawn as well but a warm fire lit the room. Harry found Faolan writing several notes in a binder, a few papers spread out over a desk.

"Good afternoon Mr. Harry." Faolan greeted politely. "Please have a seat while I finish this."

Harry nodded as he took the same seat he did before. The last time he had been there he hadn't paid as much attention as he normally would to his surroundings. The house might have a modern feel to it but the study was a throwback to old elegance. Several wall bookcases were lined with priceless books of the Muggle and Magical kind. There were old candleholders everywhere since electricity tented to react unpredictable if exposed continuously to magic. But all thoughts fled his head when he saw the painting Liadan had been studying last night.

It was a landscape portrait of an old castle. The medium had been watercolor so it gave it a faint dreamlike quality. It was a daylight setting but the artist had used dark vibrant colors. A stone tower rose in the background, archer slits bright from the lights within. Wild emerald and evergreen bush parted to reveal a lake that had a stormy silvery gray glow to it. A high wall surrounded the Tower, its face painted in beautiful shades of storm gray, midnight blue, and burnt tan. Four guard towers rose imperiously, bright flags twisted in the wind. The sky twisted in a maelstrom of slivery blue, storm gray and dark turquoise. But what stopped his breath wasn't the likeness of the painting to his dream; rather it was a lone figure near the edge of the canvas. A white robe fluttered in the gathering storm and though the person's face was turned away dark autumn hair fluttered in wild disarray.

"Is everything alright Mr. Harry?" Faolan said having sensed the wizard's agitation.

"Wh-What do you know of this painting?" Harry said tremulously, his palms gripped the mantle tightly. He wasn't sure but it felt like the world was spinning.

Faolan paused his work as he studied Harry with concern. Ultimately deciding Harry wouldn't appreciate the show of concern he considered the question.

"The painting has been on that wall for a while now." He approached to study it closer searching for the artist's mark. "It was painted in 1901 by Anahid Bairn. Gretchen might know more about it. She's been the Housekeeper here practically forever."

Harry eyes focused on the figure at the corner. He could almost swear the wild auburn strands were moving in the completely Muggle painting.

"Would you mind if I talked to her?"

"Not at all. She'll be here in a moment." Faolan studied the painting looking for whatever intrigued his guest. "What is it that you see?" he finally asked.

"It's important…" Harry said helplessly. How could he explain his dreams that he didn't even trust? "The girl there, you see here? She has hair the color of cooper and onyx eyes. She knows something, wants something."

"You can tell all that from the painting?"

Harry turned bright emerald eyes, an unreal intensity in their depths. "No…she told me."

Faolan stared.

"Master Faolan?" Gretchen said from the doorway.

"Gretchen what do you know of this painting?"

"It was a gift to Elder Ladislas. I believe a Ms. Bairn was the artist. She was an artist that belonged to the Werewolf Clan Ilandere. I believe she died in the late '30s."

"Do you know if she had any family, friends that might know more about her work?" Harry asked rapidly.

To her credit Gretchen didn't falter under Avedra Kedavra eyes. "I could not say sir. I never met Ms. Bairn. Her Clan would know about it."

"No, that wouldn't work." Interrupted Faolan. "Ilandere died out during Grindlewald's time."

Harry faltered. He almost had something there, a reason behind his dream.

"Sir?" Gretchen said uncertainly. "Any survivors would have melded into the other Clans."

"Thanks you Ms. Caldwell."

"You're welcome sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes." Faolan dismissed. He turned yellow eyes on Harry once more. "What is it about Ms. Bairn that interests you?"

Harry looked at the vampire for a moment, an inscrutable look on his face. "Ms. Bairn might have possessed some of the Sight."

"You're a Seer?" was Faolan's surprised response.

"Nothing as great…I See more than most. That place Bairn painted…she must have Seen it. It will be important for our future…and I think it was important to the past."

"Who are you really Mr. Harry?" Harry was startled at the change of subject. "Had you wanted to, Liadan would have died. She's a twit but she's a powerful twit. Not a lot of people have the power to defeat her and she forgets that. You had the power to kill her last night and her guards would have never been fast enough."

Harry's exuberance faded behind an impermeable mask. Wary eyed he studied Faolan intently. "Being a twit doesn't exactly earn you death. If it did practically everyone I know would be dead."

Faolan gave him a humorless smile. "People that gather at those kind of places aren't as forgiving. Liadan was certainly ready enough to teach you a lesson."

"She should really learn some self-restraint."

Faolan snorted before he could stop himself. "Who are you really?"

"Sometimes I'm Harry, sometimes I'm not."

"That doesn't really mean anything to me. I've known kings and peasants named Harry. It doesn't say anything if you call yourself that."

Harry turned back to the painting, his thoughts distant. "For now I am Harry. I won't be for long but that doesn't matter. In less than a year our fate will be decided."

Harry blinked. The words had escaped his mouth before he could stop them but it didn't stop him from feeling the certainty of that statement to his very bones.

"You are a strange man Mr. Harry."

Somewhat lamely Harry answered, "I know."

"What will you do now?" Faolan asked.

"I've some werewolves to meet."

The vampire fell silent. "It might beunwise of me to offer this but I trust my instincts in this matter. Should you have need of me you may call me."

Harry was speechless for a moment. That certainly hadn't been part of any scenario he might have envisioned.

"Ah…yes…thank you. I really must be going. Thank you for your hospitality." Harry said somewhat dazed.

Faolan smiled lightly. "Thank you for tolerating Liadan. I _am_ serious about my offer Harry Potter. Gretchen will lead you out."

Harry blinked.

"This way sir."

"…eh..goodbye."

"Goodbye Harry."

Harry shook his head once. Oh well…He had a werewolf to track.

**S**

**AN: Wow…another chapter. –Blink-**

**I am no longer alowed to write responses to reviewes since it messes with the word count…cry me a river.**

**No fairies were harmed in the making of this chapter and I apologize for the long wait—I ran headfirst into a block meant for writers. On the plus side I wrote a general outline for all the following chapters. There aren't that many.**

**Now my usual threat—To the masses I say: Review or I will seriously consider harming twinkies.**

**REVIEW!**

**Or I might just go voodoo doll on you!**


	25. Eve of the Lycans

**Eve of the Lycans**

The late afternoon found the last few stranglers at Diagon Alley quickly finishing last minute errands. Night would be approaching soon and no respectable wizard would be caught out, especially with You-Know-Who just around the next corner. But while Diagon Alley might be closing people were flocking toward the other alleys. Dulcis Alley's many bars and nightclubs were exploding in a sea of wild light patters. The nightlife was swinging into gear.

The atmosphere was kept more sedate down Knockturn Alley. Deeply hooded individuals walked quickly from errand to errand, Merlin knows what sort of disaster would emerge if the Aurors performed an emergency raid. Wizards everywhere avoided eye contact which made for a truly strange sight.

Charmed to look like a black-eyed golden-haired man Harry walked confidently into a robe shop down Diagon Alley near the entrance into Knockturn minutes before the shop closed. Ignoring the sour glare the casher shot him Harry quickly bought a standard sized gray cloak.

Outside he pulled the cloak over his head throwing his face into shadow. Figuring he looked sufficiently menacing he stalked into Knockturn Alley. It was all about attitude he reminded himself. If he looked scary enough no one would approach him less he prove he really was as scary as he looked. Luckily he didn't have to wander around looking for the right shop.

_Veneficures Standard, open since 1938_

It was a potion shop with blacked out windows and an empty cart of newt eyes out front. The particular shop sold rare ingredients as well as a whole range of ready-made potions. Of course they were the type of potions most parents kept away from their children.

The inside was just as forbidding as the outside. A heavy-set man with wisps of white hair tented the front counter. Harry idled next to the scalp of a merman as the shopkeeper wrapped up the order of an equally cloaked customer.

"Need any help?" The gruff voice of the shopkeeper floated toward Harry.

Harry looked down at the man for a second in stance that would have made Malfoy proud. The man was good but even he twitched under his steady stare. "I want a standard sized vile of Polyjuice Potion."

"So does every wand-waving wet-eared wizard." The man said roughly as he wiped a jar free from some suspicious looking yellow-slime.

Harry gave him a level glare. "I have no interest in hearing you waste air. I want the vial _now_."

For a moment Harry thought the man would argue but after a second he merely grunted and opened a glass cabinet behind him. A quiet click signaled a corked vile being placed on the counter. Harry gingery picked it up and studied it in the light. Merlin knows he spent more than enough time looking at Polyjuice when he helped brew it. Unfortunately he neither had the time nor the ability to do it himself. He uncorked it and sniffed it. Swallowing roughly he confirmed the same vile stench.

"I will be very…_displeased_ should any trickery be involved." Harry said loftily with no small threat in his voice.

"I sell nothing but the best." Huffed the proprietor.

"For your sake…" Harry said absentmindedly while sneering at the shop in general even as he pulled out a moneybag. He knew the shopkeeper would charge him a bit more for being an annoyance but at least this way he would not dare cheat him. Most people knew not to invite trouble.

"Forty galleons."

Harry sniffed distastefully at the man and counted the appropriate amount. Pocketing the vile Harry strolled out.

Pulling the cloak in front of his face Harry quickly left the shadowy Knockturn Alley. He didn't really need to see a hag's 'wares' being displaced so vulgarly.

Down Dulcis Alley wizarding music blared out of clubs each time a club's front door opened. Silencing charms kept the noise level down most of the time.

People dressed in strange variants of Muggle and Wizarding clothes laughed gaily as they walked along the blue cobbled path Dulcis was known for. Under one old-fashioned mage-light two gray-robed Aurors—the Guard assigned to this Alley—chatted with a group of giggling witches.

Harry ignored all of that. He proceeded to the darker end of Dulcis Alley to one particular club famous for something other than dancing. Near the entrance of the dim club a dark-eyed witch in veiled robes smoked cigars made from crushed dragon scales. Neon purple puffs of smoke lazily drifted in the air.

"Looking for anything special?" She called with a sly smile plastered on her face. Harry ignored the witch and opened the door into the nightclub. Inside it wasn't all that crowded. But then again the club catered more to private entertainment. He walked up to the bar and ordered a shot of fire-whiskey.

"Looking for something?" an airy voice whispered near his ear. Harry didn't even have to look to know a scantily dressed woman was now winding ruby nails through messy artificial blond hair.

"Not tonight luv."

"You sure about that? I'm certain you won't regret it in the morning"

Harry snaked his own arm around her wandering ones and removed them from his body. "Not tonight."

"I'm here all night if you change your mind." She offered one last time before going in search of another prey.

"I'm counting on it." He muttered softly as he drowned out another shot. Throwing a few Sickles on the counter Harry nodded once to the bartender and as simply as that left the nightclub behind.

Outside the smoking witch had been joined by a gaudy wizard wearing entirely too much red leather.

Harry strolled along the Alley without any real purpose but always with a wary eye making such he wasn't being followed. Somewhere behind him a witch working in the world's oldest profession would be escorting some bloke with too many galleons for their own good into one of the private booths at the nightclub. In a while the same witch will be cleaning up after the night's entertainment and find an unknown wand. It isn't her job to worry about such matters and all she would do was give it to the bartender on her way out. The club owners' eager to cozy up with their proprietors would discretely try to return the wand. Harry almost wished he was there when the wand came back as registered to Amos Diggory. After that returning the wand wouldn't seem as big as a priority as selling the information to the highest bidding news rag.

A scandal to usher in the Minister's new term. Harry might not be able to actively go against the Minister but such a powerful man would soon enough have powerful enemies that will not be so discrete. And the public did not like being reminded leading figures in the government were not asexual.

Overhead the sky had completely faded into soft midnight blue, the distant stars charmed into clarity in contrast to the rest of London's sky. From Tonks he knew an Order meeting was scheduled for the night. But it wasn't Grimmauld Place that called his attention that evening; rather the Burrow was his destination.

**S**

Apparating outside the Burrow's extensive wards Harry took a minute to get his bearing. In the distance he could see bright lights spilling out into the countryside. The ground was covered by a fine layer of snow that must have fallen only recently. The wards on the Burrow were on par with Grimmauld's own securities and were woven in with barriers from Egyptian, English, and Romanian origins. They had everything save the Fidelus Charm and only because they couldn't safely ask anyone to set the appropriate runes.

Despite all those wards Harry only needed to walk up the driveway. Mrs. Weasley had keyed his magical signature to the wards the moment her sons even thought of raising them.

Thankfully Mrs. and Mr. Weasley considered Ron and Ginny responsible enough to take care of themselves for the evening. Harry just hoped the elder Weasley children were also gone. He didn't know Bill and Charlie well enough to be confident they wouldn't detain him for Dumbledore to find. At least he didn't have to worry about the other Weasleys, they either lived on their own or wouldn't care to stop him.

Light from a merry fire flickered through a crack in the window curtains. Even in the chilly night the Burrow had an aura of warmth that called one to just come in. Picking up a griffin knocker he banged it a couple times as he huddled in his coat. Hastily he cancelled his glamour spells, something he didn't think who ever answered would appreciate.

The door cracked open to reveal a redhead clutching a wand.

"Harry?" was the startled greeting.

"Eh…Hello George."

"Come in mate, no need to freeze out there." Bemused Harry watched as George practically hauled him inside and hustled his soggy cloak off him. For a moment Harry was tempted to compare him to his mother but he figured this Weasley wouldn't take it all that well.

"How'd you know it was me?" In typical fashion George asked what concerned him the most instead of questioning what Harry (who should had been in Hogwarts) was doing there.

"Fred's the nice one."

George wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "But I'm the pretty one."

Harry laughed despite himself. "Uh…not to argue that fact but is Ginny and Ron here?"

"Of course mate. Mum hasn't let them out of the house since they came home…you know on account of the big bad dark lord prowling the streets looking for naughty ickle kids. Ginny! Ron! There's a bloke here looking for you!"

Despite being only two people it sounded like a stampede was thundering down the stairs.

"Animals I tell you!" George called out loudly.

"Who you calling an animal?" was Ron's greeting. His eyes widened as he spotted their evening visitor. "Harry? Got lost on your way back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Harry smiled nervously at his best friend. "Sort of…?"

The redhead rolled his eyes.

"Can I talk to you? Ginny too." Harry asked quietly, his eyes nervously darting toward George. He liked most (if not all) the Weasleys but what he had to say he only felt comfortable telling the Weasleys that had kept his council even when Harry was being an idiot and not talking to either of them.

"Of course." Ginny hastily assured him. "Why don't you come upstairs and we can leave George here to pretend he wasn't floo calling Angelina."

"Right-o." George cheerfully agreed.

**U**pstairs the two Weasleys led him into the same Chudley Cannon-orange room that he shared with Ron whenever Harry visited. Harry felt awkward bringing up the matter of a Silencing Ward but Ron cast one without blinking.

"No worries mate, standard procedure whenever the twins are visiting."

"Where's Fred?"

Ginny scowled. "At the Order meeting. Mum left George here to look after us."

"So not to be a mood-crasher but why aren't you at Hogwarts?" Ron asked with his trademark blunt manner.

"About that…" Harry coughed nervously.

"You had best not run away." Ginny said channeling Mrs. Weasley. "Merlin knows what Mum will do when she finds out."

"It's not that…but I'm pretty sure she'll find out about me tonight… The thing is I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

Silence effulged the room.

"What?" squawked Ron.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. "Why not?"

"I _might_ have withdrawn."

"You might have…" breathed Ginny. She looked forlornly at him. "But it's not as simple as that, is it?"

Harry gave her a sheepish smile before blanking his face in preparation for the tale that would follow. "After the Winter Ball two Aurors woke me from my room at the Leakey Cauldron. They took me to a meeting Minister Diggory had called. He apparently dragged Professor Dumbledore there as well. There he told us both he wanted me to be expelled from Hogwarts. Apparently my presence is too dangerous. Diggory wanted my expulsion but I managed to get off with a voluntary withdrawal with an option to take my NEWTs at the Ministry later in the year."

"Bloody hell!"

"Dumbledore wanted me to go to Grimmauld Place but I'll go mad if they lock me up there and I know they will."

"What's going to happen now?" Ron asked quietly, his eyes troubled.

Harry gave him a wan smile. "A new adventure."

Ron looked appropriately stunned. Ginny was rapidly paling, agitated hands rubbing her weak knee.

"Harry, no! Not again…please not again." She suddenly pleaded desperately; red hair was flung in disarray. Ron remained silent, his face lined heavily with thoughts of past dangers. Both knew first hand what a new adventure meant when your name was Harry Potter.

Harry had given them the news and it was finally settling into place.

"How can Diggory be such a fool! He took you away from Hogwarts! Hogwarts!" She spat angrily.

"It's truly alright Ginny." Harry said softly, more than a little cowed by the raging redhead. She was _scary_ when she wanted to be.

"Of course it's not alright! What right has he to do that? You've as much right to learn there as any of us—more even! Merlin knows you've saved the school often enough."

"Ginny, listen to me...Can you just listen?"

Flushed with anger Ginny took a few calming breaths before she could even answer.

"It doesn't matter. Not in the long run and not to me."

"But…you can't let them do that. Let them decide for you and give up without a fight. I can't believe Dumbledore is allowing this! They certainly weren't letting you leave the grounds when they thought Sirius was out to get you."

"It's a game, isn't it?" Ron finally said, his voice low and hesitant. "It's always been a game."

Harry was silent as he contemplated his best friend. Once he revealed what he knew he couldn't hide it again. These were two of his oldest friends and they more than anyone deserved to know about the shadowy secrets he played with. "It was the most conniving game ever…one that has cost so many lives and ruined so much potential. It's a game that began before we were born and it's caught us right in the middle of the final move."

His eyes never wavered from the two Weasleys. "Someone once told me Betrayal begets betrayal. Before Voldemort was Voldemort Dumbledore betrayed Tom Riddle. He probably thought it was for the best and no one would ever suffer his decision…but it didn't end there."

"And it became a chess game between them." Surmised Ron, his face morose. "A battle to outthink, out maneuver and finally win. The Order against the Death Eaters and spies making the round."

Harry looked away from the redheads, his treacherous mouth ready to kill the last part of innocence and naivety either Weasley still had. "I don't know what anyone was thinking but I can hazard a guess. I believe Dumbledore had a…suspicion Voldemort would become what he is today. He took certain measures he believed would prevent Riddle's fate. It backfired—spectacularly. I think they started playing against each other since Riddle was still Riddle. It was a war of containment and backstabbing. They picked their players and set them against each other."

"But Dumbledore…why would he let so many people fall?"

Harry never paused his monologues tale. "Voldemort threw on the evil in the hearts of people while Dumbledore called to his champions of the Light. Why murder one man when another will step in his place? Gather them together, forge their loyalty and idealism, and when the time is right if their leader shall fall they become nothing but broken pieces. Magic screwed them both over when she named her own champion; a child who would have the power to bring Voldemort his end and be just as Dark as he ever was—an 'equal'."

"But why?" Ginny interrupted brokenly. She knew precisely what child he was referring to and she didn't like it one bit. "Why expect a child to do so much?"

Harry shrugged. "A child's fate they both tried to control either through death or loyalty. Frankly this power struggle should have been resolved long ago but for what _we_ did."

"We?"

Harry smile enigmatically. "By keeping the Philosophers Stone away and by preventing Riddle's resurrection. Had Voldemort risen during our first or second year you honestly think we would have survived it? Back then we trusted every word Dumbledore said and if he wanted us to face a dozen Death Eaters with only a wand in tow we would have done it. But none of us quite believe in him the way our parents did. None of us can give him our lives as easily…not after everything Ginny has faced or Ron has seen or I've done."

Harry fell silent, waiting for one of them to voice their denial. He continued in the silence, the mage-lights casting lazy shadows across the room. "I've been running around both of them for years now, keeping just out of reach. I won't be able to do it for much longer now…and I guess it's time to tell you…things. Things that I'm afraid you might not forgive me for…and I hope things you will accept as part of who I am."

He studied both of them nervously. Despite their oaths and friendship Harry feared what the truths he revealed would do to his friends. Could they look past certain proof he wasn't a golden boy?

"Please promise you'll think over whatever I say no matter your initial feelings?" Harry knew he was delaying but he couldn't help it.

"On my life I swear it." Ginny said immediately, no hesitance in her demeanor.

"I promise." Ron said a little more seriously.

"Now tell us already."

"It's…a little hard to begin. Don't interrupt me when I start…I might not finish. When I was little I used to wonder if I might have been better if I had died with my parents. Of course back then I was under the impression they had died in a car accident. When I came to Hogwarts I hated the beginning of summer because it meant I would have to return. In third year I met Sirius and I guess I started waking up. For a minute there I had a home and I thought if I waited just a bit more I could find that home. They'd catch Pettigrew and I could live with Sirius. Of course the world went to hell after that. The Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort's rebirth, Umbridge, Occlumency lessons, the visions, the Department of Mysteries, the po-possession, and the prophecy—"

"It was shattered." Piped Ginny before flushing for speaking out of turn.

"The prophecy wasn't as lost as people would like to believe. For safety's sake the exact contents will be kept secret but we all know that prophesy dealt with—Voldemort and myself. Voldemort knew the beginning of it; his spy was there when the Seer spoke. It became a prophecy that controlled the fate of the Magical Britain for the last two decades because two men believed in it more than they should have.

"I don't think anyone really likes talking about how bad it was but the Order and Ministry were losing. Their defeat was months…probably weeks away. Then the prophecy was made and Voldemort feared it while Dumbledore found hope. Voldemort came that Halloween night in order to destroy a fledging threat to his rule.

'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_

_born to those who have thrice defied him,_

_born as the seventh month dies…'_

You have to understand—the decisions and history of other people to understand the final outcome. The prophecy wasn't even talking about me specifically. Dumbledore told me he had signaled out at least two children that had the potential. There wasn't anything too spectacular about our births in themselves to indicate which would be the so-called champion. I belonged to a noble family but so did the other child marked. We were normal as far as babies go—no hidden magical heritage, no spectacular feats of magic, no god-born signs or anything as ridiculous as that. I've gone back to records of the time and pieced together everything as closely as I could."

Harry paused, trying to organize chronological order and not the wild order in which he'd discovered everything. "I probably wasn't even a week old when Sirius approached my mum about binding me to the Black Family. I know it seems strange that my father would be unawares but records indicate James Potter served in the Ministry within the Department of Foreign Affairs from 1977 to 1980. Back then every wizard was needed and in all likelihood my dad wouldn't have been around much. He spent much of his time rallying support in other countries. Sirius on the other hand worked as a freelancer of sorts for the Order. He'd been an Auror for a while but it was hard keeping that up. Too many of the Light didn't trust his name and too many of the Dark didn't like his affiliations. Eventually he quit when he realized no one was going to trust him. The Black's are famous for some Seer blood they carried since it bred true most generations. What ability Sirius had told him he would never father an Heir and his Family would kill him. He might have hated his Family but there were still some that counted on him to preserve the name. His cousin Andromeda for one hoped he would redeem it. My mum wrote it was the ultimate joke on the Blacks—_Tourjus Pur_ would belong to a half-blood. She kept a record of it because she also felt she wouldn't have much time. Neither told my father because apparently they felt he wouldn't understand the unease they held—it would only worry him that both his wife and best friend would die soon.

"It all comes back to the second line: '_born to those who thrice defied him'_. The prophecy didn't have any set parameters, so long as someone was born of people who defied Voldemort it didn't matter if one event happened before the other. Believe it or not when I was born the prophecy hadn't latched on any one person. My mum had defied him twice already while my father did once. The other potential child was the son of two Aurors, both of whom were rapidly fulfilling that requirement. In his haste to return to England my father joined the Vatican Aurors in an assault led against Voldemort himself. My father battled Voldemort for a bit before retreating—defying him for the second time. A month after that Sirius, who had become my third parent when he had the blood and magic of the Black Family adopt me, was involved in a blitz against some Death Eaters. The Order had decided to push hard that day; too many other battles had ended badly if you will. In the mist of the conflict Sirius stumbled upon Voldemort, the two took shots at each other but Sirius managed to retreat. Your mum's brothers, the Prewetts, died there. He would go on to defy Voldemort two more times before the war would end.

"In the beginning of 1981 my parents decided to hide. They traveled for a while evading Death Eaters till Dumbledore had the time and energy to cast the Fidelus. Pettigrew was made the Secret-Keeper and as you know we were betrayed. Using some twisted logic Voldemort picked me as his enemy. I don't really know why he did that but Dumbledore once told me it was because I was the most alike to him—both half bloods. He came to Godric's Hallow on October 31, 1981. My father battled him in the foyer before falling and consequently defying Voldemort for the last time when they crossed wands. In the nursery my mum waited for him. He of-offered her mercy if she would s-stand aside. She wouldn't and for the last time defied him. By willingly standing before him she was able to evoke the power of sacrificial magic. It pushed him back…but something else happened that night. How many mothers' stood before their children? Something else drove him back and I don't think we'll ever really know what happened. The Killing Curse had an unforeseen effect on us. It bound us; our soul, our magic, and our blood. Because I lived he did as well and he was able to flee so he might become stronger. Afterwards…I was placed with the Dursleys."

Harry faltered. The Dursleys were not something he liked dwelling on. He continued his tale, his voice clipped to keep as much reign as he could on his memories. "They served their purpose, at least the one Dumbledore indented. My mother's blood protected me but they also taught me many unforeseen things. Hogwarts was my home; I would have done anything to protect it, to protect the world that was mine, and the friends that choose me. Dumbledore knew what I would have to become to stand against Voldemort. I could never hope to surpass him in terms of knowledge so I…highly suspect Dumbledore stepped back to allow us to stumble on our own. He may have succeeded in preventing me from growing up with an over-inflated ego by sending me to the Muggle world…but now he had to find something to tie me to Wizarding World. Back in first year it wasn't till we rescued Hermione that I had any close friends. My first tie to this world…at least our friendship has been interesting. I and by extension my friends were pushed and prodded to become warriors if only to survive Voldemort's presence. It happened and in Dumbledore's defense it was the only way for me to survive to meet Voldemort in battle.

"But I grew up…so much was hidden from me I realize. My parents meddled enough in my life without the world contributing. Even Sirius who bound me as a son never told me. The Black Will left everything to me and the Order knew for over a year. I couldn't trust them; I wouldn't even have tried in the perpetual bad mood I was in sixth-year. I don't know how much you realize just how close I was to loosing it.

"I met a vampire who helped me. During the Summers I was locked away at Hogwarts I rarely spend a whole day there. For Merlin's sake I sold basilisk parts in Asia. But now I have to tell you about where things go awry…

"Voldemort's connection to me strengthened and we began seeing each others memories. I understand the charm that made his diary-self so attractive. I've built shields to keep him out but anytime either of us feels strong emotions we are drawn together. Voldemort and Sirius did the same thing to me though I admit Sirius was gentler about it. They basically performed soul magic that tied me to their bloodlines. I've acknowledged Black but I haven't dared touch Slytherin.

"I've been running away from the war, evading and fooling everyone that would catch me. I know I won't be able to keep it up for long. I've always been expected to fight in this war. Morrigan helped protect me for a while and will continue doing so till this last mystery is solved. Sirius and…my mother carried the Sight."

"Your mum was a Muggle-born." Retorted Ginny. "Err…sorry."

"Neither was very strong in the Gift but its been passed down faithfully. That is how I know by summer one way or another this will be over. Voldemort's been gathering his strength for months, keeping the scale of his attacks in line. I've had dreams of a girl that…tells me the importance of blood…? I don't know what that means yet but I know who might. I'm searching for the pieces of the puzzle and I need to do it quickly without interfere."

Harry finally paused, looking at both silent Weasleys. Ginny's eyes were bloodshot while Ron had his whole head bowed.

"You're asking us to stay out of it, aren't you?" Ron finally choked out.

Harry gave him a pained glance. "Should Voldemort die…I die as well. And…I can do that. _I can_. But I also have some of the Sight Sirius and my mum carried and I think…if I follow where it leads me I might be able to figure something out."

"But we can help you." Ginny pleated quietly.

"Not where I'm going. I need to move quickly and I need to know you two are safe."

"We've always been by your side." Ginny reminded him. "We went to the Ministry with you and fought alongside you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "And I appreciate what you've done. By summer this will be over. I know it in my very bones. I need you two to keep yourself safe and to keep an eye out for anything you think I should know. I don't think I'll be able to stay in contact with everything that is happening but I will need to know…somehow…when I have to return. Hopefully I'll have figured out something."

"Does Dumbledore know about the…death link?" Ron asked with a hard voice, a helpless anger swimming behind his eyes.

Harry would be frank. "For about as long as it has been there. Because I was part of the resurrection ritual are souls and magic became died together beyond repair." Despite himself Harry's voice broke. Not even he could be so cold when talking about his death. "Why train a pawn when all he needs is to die?"

A second later two redheads effulged him in a tight hug.

"Will _he_ do anything about it?" Ginny whispered shakily.

Harry shook his head against her shoulder. Just as quietly he whispered back. "He believes in prophecies and fate. He believes it our fate to deal the killing blow."

Ron flinched at the 'k'-word.

"What will you have us do?" Ginny said, her brown eyes determined as they stared back into shadowy emerald orbs.

Harry was quiet for a long moment. "Live for me…and hope…"

"On my soul I swear." Two voices promised in that quiet corner of the Burrow. Harry stared at their faces and memorized all he could. He hoped it would be enough to keep his will from wavering. From taking the easy path and ending the war in a manner that would make him a martyr or from running away from it all. Some part of him yelled to run away, to leave the wizards to their fate. He didn't like most of them, why should he have to die for them?

"On my soul I swear." Harry repeated faintly.

**S**

"The Ministry is suffering from the latest setback; they lost much face when Fenrir Greyback led some of his werewolves into Galen." Kingsley Shacklebolt informed the Order of the Phoenix.

"Is it possible to sway the werewolves?" Emmeline Vance asked hesitantly, blushing from all the eyes on her.

"Perhaps but in any case it would be unwise to approach them right now. Known werewolves are being watched very closely by people within the Ministry best kept ignorant of our _own_ actions."

"I was stopped twice last week. Luckily the Aurors recognized me from Hogwarts but it would have been…unpleasant had they not." Remus said softly, an ever-present weariness deep in his voice.

Various Order members clucked sympathetically.

"What will be the repercussions of the Ministry's edicts?" said the no-nonsense voice of Sinclair Rutherford, a recent recruit from St. Mungo's administrative staff.

"So far nothing official has been said but someone tried to burn down an inn down Dulcis Alley with a reputation for catering to the darker aspects of society. Fenrir's attack brought noticeable attention to werewolves. As of yet only those active in Wizarding society have been questioned. It won't be long before Aurors are ordered to investigate the recluse Clans. When that happens…we can only wait and watch how they'll react."

Some of the Order members from the previous war traded uneasy looks.

"There's nothing we can do that we aren't already doing. Moving on, any news Mr. Fletcher?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"It's just Dung." Muttered Mundungus Fletcher. He glanced nervously at the faces around the table before digging his hands into his worn coat. "I was ah…doin' business with a fellow when I overheard some chap and lady start arguing—"

"As interesting as a lover's spat sounds…" Snape said achingly. His face set on a very foul mood.

" 'cept this lady was a real Lady. The chap called her Lady…although another fellow called her Liadan. But the thing was the Lady was a…vampire. Wasn't native either. The chap was human though and her next meal except he batted her away like she was nothing. They talked a bit and left together."

"And this is relevant how?" Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody said sharply, his whirling eye making more than one watching wizard nauseous.

"That chap…was 'Arry Potter."

The room exploded in a cacophony of voices, ranging from Snape's venomous mutters to Mrs. Weasley's high keening cry of distress.

"Can you tell us any more?" Remus demanded.

Dung shifted uncomfortably under everyone's scrutiny. "Can't say much else. They left together with a couple of other fellows, guards by the look of them."

"This is most unsettling news." Dumbledore said slowly, his presence reigning in the talking wizards. "Unfortunately that may very well be Mr. Potter. I trust what news I reveal be kept quiet till the beginning of term, it is the least we can do to ensure Mr. Potter's continuous safety. After the Winter Ball Mr. Potter officially withdrew from Hogwarts—"

Dumbledore patiently waited for the room to settle down. "Young Harry rejected my offer to return here. Hopefully he will realize the danger around him before it is too late. However I cannot allow anyone to search for him till the beginning of term less we alert Voldemort—" flinch "—of this new development."

"You can't mean to allow him to stay with those…vampires!" sputtered Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry is more than capable of handling himself!" Tonks immediately shot back.

"The boy's hardly left Hogwarts! He can't possibly know the dangerous he faces out in the world." Mrs. Weasley informed everyone tartly.

"Didn't exactly protect him before." Tonks said snidely, flushing slightly under the reprimanding gaze of Professor Dumbledore.

"Ladies calm yourselves. We cannot resolve anything if we can't even discuss this calmly."

Both women muttered quiet apologies.

"Young Harry will undoubtedly contact young Mr. Weasley soon. Molly if you could impact the importance on him to convince Mr. Potter to return to Grimmauld Place it will be very helpful. For now we cannot risk alerting the public that Mr. Potter is on his own."

"Headmaster I must protest the amount of leeway you continuously allow Mr. Potter." Snape achingly interrupted. "He is aware of this organization, about the operations conducted here. All the fool needs is for someone to slip him some Veritaserum and he can name a great deal of the Order."

A few people shifted uncomfortably.

"I trust Mr. Potter will be able to keep away from those situations." Dumbledore said brightly ignoring more than one frowning face. "Hopefully Mr. Potter will be joining us here at Grimmauld Place before the winter holiday ends."

Not everyone was entirely happy with that decision but they all respected Albus Dumbledore too much too naysay him. After all, who knew better than the most powerful wizard alive?

**S**

"What really happened?" Moody gruffly said as way of introduction.

Dung Fletcher scratched his head nervously. Moody always made him nervous whenever he focused that odd eye on him. But honestly he was a crook born-and-breed and Moody would _always_ make him nervous.

Dung had gone to the upstairs bathroom with the sinking dread that Moody would find him soon enough. You end up owing a paranoid Auror a favor and it haunts you for the rest of your crooked life.

"Like I said." Dung shrunk under Moody's glare. "I might have forgotten to add a few things…Potter was at the bar drinking. There really was a Lady except he called her Ladislas. She hassled him for a while but he swatted her away life she was nothing. He did the flame-trick the Professor said he did at school a few weeks ago. Potter told her to go away but she wouldn't. Looked real mad for a bit there. Then another chap interrupted them…named Faolan. He invited Potter back to the Clan Manor. They left together and I lost track of them afterwards."

"What do you know about the Ladislas people he left with?"

Dung shifted a bit under Moody's whirling eye. "Don't get too many of those in England. Old Vampire Clan from Greece or some part 'round there. Useful to know if Potter ever wants to leave Britain for good."

"I know you'll keep quiet about this Fletcher." Moody barked in his drill-sergeant voice.

Dung nodded his head wildly. Merlin help him if he even thought of disagreeing.

Moody frowned once at the thief before dismissing him. Fletcher practically slithered against the wall trying to avoid touching the paranoid ex-Auror.

"Albus, old friend, what game are you playing at?" Mad-Eye muttered to himself. He snorted once to himself in quiet amusement. "Boy, I hope you appreciate what I'm doing…"

He shook his head once before going back downstairs in search of people to unsettle. At his age he needed something to pass the time and unfortunately he couldn't spend all the time plotting against Dark Wizards.

**S**

Harry left the Burrow with plenty of time to avoid the arrival of any stray Weasleys. Ron and Ginny knew better than to ask him to stay. Chances were if he did he might never leave. On his way out he didn't see George but Harry trusted the younger Weasleys to make the appropriate excuses to him and if that failed Ginny could always threaten the twin into compliance.

That night he would sleep in a Muggle hotel. It was just outside London and set in a quiet hamlet that would serve to hide him for the time being. He didn't know how long Dumbledore and Diggory would be able to keep news of his freedom quiet. Chances were the news would break long before the holiday was over. He would rather not think about it overmuch. It made him uneasy thinking of the babbling idiots that reasonably intelligent wizards would become the moment they realized their so-called savior had no minders.

Tomorrow he would go in search of the Brungle cousins and hopefully they would be able to lead him somewhere. They _were_ part of a Clan and unfortunately for Harry for safety's sake he had avoided learning which one…but not like it could help him find Clan Ilandere. That particular Clan didn't exist anymore.

**S**

_Pale moonlight filtered through the treetops. Twisted trees rose like grotesque characters amidst the shadows. In the distance the high keening cry of an animal echoed. Damp forest air penetrated the layer of clothes Harry wore. _

_He did not like this one bit._

_He was tempted to stay where he was but something told him he to go forward. There was something he had to see. Dry leaves crunched under his passing feet._

"_Why don't you know?" _

_Harry literally jumped as the unexpected voice rang clearly in the quiet night. Tempted to label it a disembodied voice and move on Harry finally spotted a figure perched on a branch near his position._

"_Why haven't you seen what you've been shown?" The figure demanded once again. In the ghostly moonlight pale skin shown with an iridescent glow. Dark auburn hair spilled along the face of a familiar onyx-eyed girl. Except this time black eyes were bright with tears and pain. She pleated desperately, "Why haven't you Seen?" _

"_Seen what?"_

_The girl focus traveled away from him down to her stomach. Trembling hands clutched her middle once before offering them both to him. Pale hands glowed with ruby red stain. "I-I didn't want to die…"_

_Her face contorted once and then she was shrieking. Like a madwoman calling for her lost children her voice reverbeeted through the very ground. And then she was running and Harry's own feet pounded after her. Braches whipped back and wetly slapped him, the heavy smell of copper clinging to everything it touched._

"_Wait!" Harry's voice tried to call her back. "Please! I don't understand! I don't understand what you've trying to show me!"_

_Harry broke through heavy foliage only to stumble into a large clearing, a familiar fortress sitting at the peak of the gentle hill. A few steps away the onyx-eyed girl had fallen to her knees._

"_Please…" Harry asked quietly. "Please tell me what I have Seen? Need to See?"_

_The girl's body trembled. "Death." Monotone she answered. "Death and those that gift it."_

"_I don't understand your bloody cryptic riddles." Harry snapped with barely a trace of civility._

_Onyx-eyes locked onto his. She whispered, her voice broken. "Then See…"_

_And the world drowned in a cacophony of screams and war cries. Men and women--terror stricken and betrayed. Accusing eyes and the silvery glint of flying blades. His lungs burned, suffocated under the stench of fresh blood. His ears rang; the whimpering cries of children and pleating begs of women fighting to be heard above the other. His eyes ran, life ended and destroyed, ruin spread like a wild disease and ashes in the air the only thing to mark the darkest of deeds. His hearth burned, vengeance, hate, and the soothing lull of insanity griped all that he was._

_The girl spoke again, a hard note of the same insanity he'd briefly felt deep in her voice. "Cursed ruin…betrayal begotten…madness sown."_

_Harry hated to admit he was frightened. The…vision he saw still ghosted along his senses "Why?"_

_The onyx-eyed girl gave a watery laugh. "Death and betrayal were our reward. Everything…destroyed. But some curses live longer than they should have, some curses consume and consume…"_

"_It happened. The thing I Saw happened because of betrayal."_

"_Yes." She answered simply. _

"_But why are you Showing me this? If it has happened already what is the point?"_

_She glanced at him with well-worn patience. _

"_Did you think it was over?" Alien mocking laughter spilled from her pale lips. A voice deeper than hers--possibly male--overlapped her own. "Vengeance paid in full, madness repeated on those that dared claim what was not theirs."_

_Harry flinched away from the girl. There was something truly mad about that voice and not in the world-domination or lemon-drop-loving sort of madness. There was only all-consuming insanity._

"_Where did this happen?" Harry asked more loudly than he wanted._

_Onyx-eyes slipped into rationality before flickering toward the silent fortress in the background. "You've seen it already. Dream-scouted alongside the invaders. And hell came for those that dwelt there and the last of the Last fell into madness, the curse bleed into the very ground."_

_The dream-vision was breaking apart. Colors paled and darkened as the world faded away. But Harry was left there starring forlornly at nothing._

"_But what does that mean?"_

_Her voice whispered once more. "Time is running out…and then death must rise….You must hurry... You don't even know why yet."_

**S**

In daylight Dulcis Alley looked somewhat respectable. One could almost forget the type of things that went on at night.

The Dark Carus Bar was unchanged from the last time he had been there. Even the ageless Artemis took his order with her trademark French-wink (as much as a wink _could_ be French).

Sean and Bast had always eaten lunch at the bar. Both were confirmed bachelors that couldn't boil water on a good day. The lunch hour was half gone and to Harry's growing agitation the cousins hadn't shown up. His only other option if he couldn't get a hold of the cousins would be to find Remus and Harry knew Remus to be entirely too close to Dumbledore.

Harry was very close to laughing giddily when two amber-eyed men entered the bar from the Muggle entrance.

"Oi! Brungle and Brungle!" Harry called out.

"Evan! Been a while. For a while there we thought your great-uncle had off'd you and hidden the body."

"He'll never be as lucky. Sit down; I've been looking for both you."

"Why don't I like the sound of this?" Sean sighed dramatically.

"You probably won't once you hear the rest of it."

Harry flicked his wand inside his full sleeves as he cast the strongest Warding charm he could. Not even Voldemort, had be stood three feet away from them, would be able to hear them.

"I need some help finding a woman or anyone that might be connected to her."

"What makes you think we can help you there? We're not exactly on anyone's 'it' list." Bast asked honestly, his face truly baffled.

"She was a werewolf." Harry said bluntly.

Immediately both men grew guarded looks on their faces. "Evan, mate, this isn't the best time to be investigating werewolves…"

"I know, I know. But this isn't what you think. The woman I'm looking for should be dead by now and the Clan she belonged to is gone but someone told me some survivors merged in with other Clans and I'm looking for anyone that may have known her."

Sean gave him a pensive look. He honestly liked Evan but there was too much at risk to blindly invite him into their Clan stronghold, especially now that every Clan leader had been virtually declared a marked-target by the Ministry.

The cousins traded heavy looks. "We're going to have to know more first and then we're going to have to bring it up with the Clan."

"You'll help me?" Harry asked with no small relief.

Bast gave him an impish smile. "I suppose…if we must."

"Thank you…I'm looking for a woman named Anahid Bairn who belonged to Clan Ilandere. The Clan fell under Grindlewald but I was told survivors merged with the local Clans. She was a painter and I've seen the work she gifted Elder Ladislas that even now hangs in Clan Aknor's England's Manor. What might not be as known is her calling as a Seer. It is my belief that she Saw part of a puzzle I'm investigating."

Harry could virtually feel the cousins' eyebrows climb. Finally Bast gave a low whistle. "Nothing as simple as finding a long-lost relative or jilted love, is it?"

"Not quite."

"What can you tell us about this puzzle?"

Harry spoke carefully. "It has…left people dead and…it's my belief it will do so again."

"Couldn't be anything simple, could it?" Sean complained half-heartily.

"We'll talk to Rolfe and things should go well…but Evan, this had better not be a trick. We're trusting you here with the lives of our Clan if we should get you a meeting."

"I understand."

Bast sighed one last time. "We'll owl you when we have an answer."

"I prefer you didn't." Pulling out a velvet pouch he handed it to them. Inside a glowing crystal shimmered with a waiting spell ready to be released. "Inside there's a crystal that will release a messenger bird when broken. When you have an answer send it. It should be sufficiently harder to track then an owl."

Bast smirked. "How devious…I like it."

**S **

In the following week Harry stalked around his Muggle hotel. His nerves and thoughts jumped from one second to another. Alternately he wished he had told the werewolf cousins more and hadn't said as much as he did. But there was only so much he could say before he started sounding like a madman if he didn't already.

Christmas passed without a thought; wards raised around his magical signature prevented anyone from contacting him. Thankfully the _nuntius_ already carried his signature within its very makeup and should naturally have a homing beacon on him.

A small shimmering raven arrived near dawn of the sixth day, the full moon disappearing under the rising sun.

Evan Mortifer 

_Go to King Cross Station near Platform Eight at five in the afternoon. Bring nothing and tell no one._

_Password: The Tower._

…_Don't break faith._

_Bast Brungle_

**S**

King Cross Station was just as packed as it was whenever Harry would make the trip to Hogwarts. Sternly dressed businessmen tiredly moved on their way home while every once in a while a child's cry rose above the noise to alert haggard parents of their displeasure.

Harry showed up half-an-hour early and loitered near Platform Eight. He kept an eye on anyone that lingered past the train's departure. He couldn't risk being followed and he couldn't afford walking into a situation without knowing as much as he could.

Sean Brungle's tow-head shinned briefly as he passed the bright glare of an overhead light. Shadowing Sean was another man, thin and wiry with dark, shaggy hair. Sean appeared to be calm enough but his companion swiveled his head side to side every once in a while scanning the crowds. The man didn't appear to be looking specifically for anyone, rather he was doing as Harry did and looking for anyone overly interested in him.

Sean caught his eye and nodded once toward his companion. The shaggy man's sharp-planed features seemed to frown when he spotted Harry. Admittedly he didn't look all that…noticeable. In his disguise as Even Mortifer, Harry wore the glamoured image of a boy who couldn't possibly be involved in the things Harry was after.

Brushing blond hair away from his eyes Harry moved to meet them. The two didn't stop as they brushed past Harry and Sean only nudged him to continue walking with them. "Keep walking. The _Tower's _that way." The werewolf whispered striding forward. Shoving a ticket in his hand Harry glanced at it once before walking just as purposely to their new destination at Platform Four. They only had seconds to board the train as it sped out of London.

Harry allowed them to lead him to a seat of their choice.

"Isn't it a wonderful time of year to go spend the evening out in the country-side?" Sean said cheerfully.

"Marvelous." Harry said dryly.

"Evan this is Ulmer Amaris and he will be out escort this fine evening."

Amaris gave Sean a withering glance but didn't comment, letting his eyes roam and catalogue everyone in their compartment. Moody would approve.

The ride was quiet as they left London behind. The silence broken every once in a while by Sean and Harry as they traded idle comments on the passing scenery.

Neither werewolf announced their stop and Harry merely took it in stride as he followed their lead. Harry almost feared they'd spend the night weaving through the countryside and backtracking as soon as they got anywhere remotely close to their destination.

Sean must have read his face because he laughed lightly. "No worries mate. Won't be long now."

Amaris frowned at the cheerful werewolf. "It would be prudent you didn't talk about such things in public."

Sean rolled his eyes in a well-worn gesture.

The three men walked briskly for some time weaving around people and darkened buildings. The building they finally entered was nondescript and didn't even have the street numbers posted.

Inside a long hallway with darkened offices eventually opened to a wide-open space that must have been a warehouse at one time. In the center of the warehouse a round table was littered with papers and drinks. Around it two men and a woman talked quietly. Harry was not as foolish as to believe there weren't other watchers keeping an eye on him. The trio made no sign that they had heard his approach. From the shadows Bast emerged, his customary greeting subdued as he stared respectfully at the trio.

When the trio finally spoke to him he was almost too distracted to notice.

"You seek knowledge Evan Mortifer." The lone Woman said, her voice rich and heavily accented, wisdom crinkled at the corner of her eyes.

"Your kind has brought us nothing but trouble wizard." Scoffed the younger of the two men, face flickering with remembered anger.

"Peace brother, let us hear the wizard plead his case." Counseled the oldest man, his long gray hair knotted in many braids. "We have already agreed to do as much."

The Younger Man sniffed disdainfully while the Woman laughed throatily. "Only because he did not believe our children would return unharmed and alone with their quarry. Let this meeting begin before the hour draws any longer. Now speak Mortifer and tell us why you seek the council of the wolves."

Harry wasn't sure if he would enjoy demonstrating his insanity to the three very intimidating werewolves. Harry could only sigh helplessly as he did as he was told. "I'm looking for a woman named Anahid Bairn that belonged to the Clan Ilandere before its breaking. She was a painter and a Seer. It is my belief she might have Seen part of a mystery I'm after, one which is going to be fulfilled very soon."

"And what makes you think we can help you?" The Old Man asked coldly.

"I…don't know if you can. All I know is that her remnant Clan members merged with local Clans and if anyone might remember something of Ms. Bairn it will be they."

The trio observed him silently while they communicated via a nod or a glance. Finally the Younger Man bluntly said. "And why should we help you wizard? Why should we offer our resources and help when we'll receive nothing for our trouble?"

Harry was beginning to dislike the youngest Council member. He finally snapped, diplomacy wasn't going anywhere—not with this man anyway. "There's a hell lot of reasons you should but few that you'd find acceptable. Ms. Bairn Saw something that involved the death of a lot of people and it's not over. I've Seen fragments of the vision and it's telling me it's about to run into completion. I'm not that great of a Seer, I can't See more than a few frustrating warnings but they're all telling me time's running out."

To their credit the trio seriously considered Harry's rambling…well they did for all of thirty seconds. The Younger Man gave a loud mocking laugh. "You've wasted enough of our time. What did you hope to accomplish by coming to us with these fanciful tales? I'll think we've listened enough of this."

"Now, now." Chided the Old Woman. "I do believe he's serious."

"Why won't you believe me? What must I do?" Harry nearly pleated, visions of the red-haired girl's frightened face swimmed along his mind.

"What must you do?" repeated the Younger Man, a cruel twist to thin lips. "Bast, call Duncan and bring our guest."

"Mr. Mortifer you've come to us." The Old Man said gravely. "You've asked for names and knowledge held sacred. No matter how easily it may seem to simply give you all we know of your quarry you have not proven your character to us. Even the life of a woman dead these many years cannot be released so easily into a stranger's hands less we set into motion terrible consequences. You were granted this meeting on Sean and Bast's request and they have not guided us wrong as of yet but now you must prove why this meeting should come to fruition."

"You must kill him." The Younger Man sadistically announced.

For a moment Harry wasn't sure what was going on. Near a shadowed alcove three figures approached the center of the warehouse to stand before the Council and Harry. One was the shaggy werewolf Harry remembered as Ulmer Amaris and the other his unknown amber-eyed companion who he vaguely remembered being called Duncan. Between them shackled and gagged was a man wearing the distinct scuffed gray robes of an Auror. Harry didn't know what happened but he had the awful feeling he wasn't going to like it one bit.

For a horrible second he contemplated knowing the Auror being held. That would just make things…harder for him. Thankfully he didn't recognize the Auror as being one of Dumbledore's men. For one there was something entirely too Snape-like about the man, a petty cruelness that was often dismissed and entirely too childlike. It made men useless and Dumbledore had never been a fan of useless people no matter how lax he might be in removing them from office. One eye was swollen shut and a trickle of blood was quickly drying alongside the Auror's pale face.

"Last night when the moon set and our Clan was weak from the transformation a squad of Aurors broke into one of our sanctuaries. Five of our kin perished before the alarm could be sounded. Our guest here eventually…informed us the attack was approved by an unknown top Ministry employee able to circumvent the Department of Law Enforcement thanks to the Minister's sanction. Officially it is a containment mission but I and all my kin know it is revenge on our kind for Fenrir Greyback's deeds. Nine people are dead, Mr. Mortifer, and all we have to show for it is one Auror that was too busy torturing to escape with his brethren." The Old Man explained sorrowfully. "Now we ask, prove your intentions…if you truly want what knowledge we possess them you must be able to fight against any who would misuse it. Kill he who would have done the same had he found Anahid Bairn in their stead. Kill he who would have done the same to whoever you are so desperately trying to save had they been moon-sworn."

"B-But…" Harry stuttered in surprise. He was able to recover his mask quick enough that no one but the Council noticed his lapse.

"Does he deserve mercy?" The youngest of the trio intoned. "Does he deserve _life_? Why don't you enlighten us of your recent deeds? Amaris take the gag off."

Amaris tore the gag downward and swiftly kicked the Auror's legs from beneath him. The Auror himself was a rather average fellow only distinguished at that time by terrified blue eyes. His eyes flickered from the Council to Harry before locking on his only salvation. "H-Help me! Call the Aurors! Call the Ministry! Please Help me!…Don't let me die here…"

The Younger Man's lips curled in disgust. Following some hidden signal Amaris pulled the gag back in place so not even the Auror's muffled cries could escape.

"That is not what I asked." Chided the Younger Man with a deceptive calmness that didn't quite hide deep malice. "That, Auror, is not what should concern you at this moment."

"Give him death." The Old Woman said with a regal motion of her hand. "Prove you will protect our secrets to death's door. That you honor the lives of our kin as more than _animals."_

Was it worth it? All he needed to do was kill a man who deserved something entirely more painful. It wasn't all that hard either. A slash of his dagger or even a well placed _Reducto_ if he didn't want to get his hands dirty.

He glanced away from the crying Auror and met the eyes of the Council, unknown to him they read the troubled debate taking place in his mind.

"What rights does he have?" The Old Man asked flatly. "Who will atone for what has been done to our kin? Twenty-year old Gina stabbed with a silver knife; twenty-three year old Amir took a close range _Reducto_ the heart; seventeen-year old Cory's lungs collapsed under _Sufies Domos._ Those three all died directly under him."

There was an ugly fascination about the Auror once Harry heard his list of crimes. The same black chill he had felt the first time he heard Bellatrix LeStrange drove the Longbottoms mad. Some part of him thought that if he looked hard enough he could see the twisted cruelness that incited cold murder.

Did he have the same callousness? The same inhuman strength?

Harry raised his ash wand, barely hidden power coursing just beneath its surface. His hand didn't tremble but inside his chest his hearth pounded uneasily. In his mind onyx-eyes looked at him in desperation and animal rage.

He blinked and spoke, his voice wavering. "No."

"No." Raged the Younger Man. "Duncan kill the Auror."

Harry didn't look away as the werewolf Duncan whipped out a long rapier and dragged it across the Auror's unprotected neck. He made no motion to help or hinder as ruby drops sprayed the ground in front of the Council. Truthfully he couldn't exactly argue or find fault in the sentence.

"This meeting is over. There is nothing more to discuss." The Old man said as gravely as he had said everything else. "Come along Bast, Sean. It's time to leave."

Harry and the Brungle cousins shared an unreadable glance. Harry knew them to belong to the Clan the Old Man ruled. Why exactly he faced the Council trio Harry could only wonder.

"Come on Duncan." The Younger Man said as he strode forward. "Let's take this chap for a little show and tell."

Harry was not entirely sad to see that particular Clan Elder leave. Now _that_ was a temperamental git.

Harry watched them leave before turning back to face the Old Woman who was leisurely flipping through a Muggle notebook left behind on the neglected table.

"Tell me child, Evan Mortifer isn't your real name, is it?" She asked calmly, the fierceness she had wielded during the Council seemed to have faded somewhat.

He blinked once; the daze he had fallen into hadn't entirely lifted yet. "Eh…no, it isn't."

"You realize the meaning of the name you've taken?"

"Mortifer?" Harry smiled sheepishly. "It was a bit of a joke on my part."

She didn't return the smile. Harry's body tensed; there was something entirely too curious about the Old Woman's eyes. "My name is Chandra Amaris, child, and I once knew a Seer."

Harry remembered all of Aberforth's subtle warnings and the cursed life that was his because he was a Seer.

"She's the only one I've ever met and most people that knew her thought her quite mad. I was a child at the time and before her death she gave me a message to memorize. She told me I would understand it when the time was right. I've never given her words much thought but she frightened me enough I never forgot them either.

"She told me…_Master of Masks he would come, Named Death and Dreamer to the Ulrich. Death he heralds, Death he is named, and in Death's ashes does he stand. Given Death to deal he will stand aside._

"You understand how vague that sounds? It could have meant all manner of coincidences and in recent years Death has been a common theme. However for once in her life she wasn't as cryptic as she liked to be. She told me when Death's Warrior came to the Ulrich I would give him his wish. This is the first Ulrich that has met in years—the Council of the local Clan Elders—and although Rolfe and his boys brought you to our attention it was at my request that you were granted an audience. I admit it was your name that caught my attention. It has been a habit of mine to learn the meaning of such things. Evan the warrior and Mortifer the death-bringer. I might be unwise of me to reveal what I know but Rolfe and Adolph have left it to my hands."

"You'll help me?"

The Old Woman—Chandra Amaris—smiled gently. "Yes, if only to honor the Seer I knew. Like I said my name is Chandra Amaris and I am the granddaughter of Anahid Bairn but there is precious little I can tell you for I myself don't know very much. Follow me and I'll show you what I can."

Harry followed her unwilling to believe his luck. Bairn's own granddaughter he thought with bemusement. Chandra and Harry walked toward one of the darkened offices he had passed by initially. Ulmer Amaris, her grandson he thought, opened the door to one such office. The inside was dusty with forgotten years. Most of the room was taken up by an old wood desk and several chairs, some of which were overturned. In one corner an easel held a cloth-covered canvas. Unsurprisingly Chandra pulled the cloth away. The painting was similar to the on Ladislas had. The same forbidding Tower was propped in the distance. The foreground was lost in the shadows of the forest; so dark was the canvas that Harry almost didn't spot the man in the foreground. He stood observing something in the ground, his sword pointing to the same level he was looking at. A serpent, Harry realized.

"This was one of her later works titled _The Tower. _Anahid once told me a story…about a man who loved a Princess of the Tower and forsook his life for hers. He became as she was and lived as she did her people. But he betrayed them and brought ruin down on those who had taken him in. He was cursed with the foulest of all curses."

"Did she ever mention anything else about the Tower?" Harry asked. There were certainly enough coincidences between his vision and Anahid's tale to be more than a little interested.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't remember…She did name the tower though…She called it Rowsgath."

_Rowsgath Tower_

"Do you know where it might be?"

"I wouldn't know. My Grandmother didn't tell me…Listen closely Mr. Mortifer, I don't know what my grandmother Saw but whatever it was left her a bit unhinged. She did as you did and sought to unravel what she Saw. She never told anyone from Ilandere the results of the investigation but I remember it was vampires who finally answered her questions. I don't know to whom she spoke or what she asked but she came back to us a changed woman. The werewolves of Clan Ilandere cannot help you in that respect, don't search them out. Our way of life relies on secrecy and many would not understand your inquiries." She paused in consideration. "Ilandere is a dead Clan but should you have more questions that I can answer you may call upon the Elder of Clan Tainn."

She bowed her head once before straightening up again. "Now I'm afraid I must be going. My grandson Ulmer will escort you to the train station."

Their silent guard stepped forward and besides wearing a sour expression he obeyed Chandra unquestionably.

"Thank you." Harry called out to the retreating figure.

"My Elder has seen fit to welcome you as friend," the younger Amaris grounded between his teeth. "Then it is only acceptable I do the same. I am Ulmer Amaris of Clan Tainn."

"She really your grandmother?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He had always thought the reason Remus never had children was because he didn't want to pass on his infection.

"Yes." Amaris said cooly. "I am her blood-grandson and her lychatrophia was passed on to me although that is not always the case."

"What is the difference between one bitten and one born?"

His voice took on a lecturing tone. "We are appropriately called blood werewolves and our minds and bodies can handle the transformation. Those bitten do not carry the full Lycan transformation and as a consequence the moon takes their mind. Those born are trained in the secrets of the moon and learn how to calm the wolf so two minds may coexist…not like the Ministry would make such a distinction."

Harry admitted it, he was a bit stumped. Why wouldn't this information be more widely known? He asked Ulmer as much.

The man scowled bitterly. "Those born come into the Clans and our own separate society. The bitten usually have no such resources and are unwilling to abandon whatever shred of their former life remains. While the Clans may be able to calm the bitten's wolf they will never truly become as us and are loath to stay. It's time we left."

Harry nodded his acceptance. He was certainly learning more about DADA than he ever did at school.

He needed to sleep and recuperate from the night. He also was now one step closer to unraveling his mystery. What curse would be so powerful that it would be spoken with such tread by both the onyx-eyed girl and the Elder Amaris? And why had his coming been foreseen by a woman nearly a century ago?

He had a suspicion the vampires would know and a nasty thought he wouldn't like the answer.

He couldn't help but remember the unknown man in the last painting. Was it truly odd luck that depicted a serpent in the foreground?

It was time he sought Amos out about the mysteries of Rowsgath Tower and a curse that lived on.

**S**

**AN: Took me a while but I finally finished the chapter.**

**Uhmm…Have fun?**

**REVIEW!**

**No Twinkies were harmed in the making of this chapter but a large amount of sugar was consumed.**


	26. Kingdom Divided

* * *

Summary: "It's always been a game."… "He may have succeeded in preventing me from growing up with an over-inflated ego by sending me to the Muggle world…but now he had to find something to tie me to Wizarding World"…"He believes in prophecies and fate. He believes it our fate to deal the killing blow."… "Albus, old friend, what game are you playing at?" Mad-Eye muttered to himself…_ Her voice whispered once more. "Time is running out…and then death must rise….You must hurry... You don't even know why yet."…_ It was time he sought Amos out about the mysteries of Rowsgath Tower and a curse that lived on.

* * *

**S**

**Kingdom Divided**

"Godric's Hallow!" The speakers barked out with a crackle of static.

"—Come along Mary." A middle-aged woman said to a young child as she picked up various shopping bags littered on the floor.

"Mum! Mum!" The girl chanted with far too much energy. "We're here! We're here!"

"I know dear."

The girl bounced toward Harry. Beaming up at him she happily chirped, "We're here!"

Harry smiled politely.

"Sorry about that sir." The woman said.

The train rolled into the station. With a perpetual bounce the girl exited out into the platform. Harry followed the girl's mother with a bemused expression. Godric's Hallow station was nothing more than a bare platform and a tiny wooden shack. It was nothing remarkable but despite the fact for a second Harry didn't know if he could go any further. This sleepy little town would have been _his_ town, _his_ home.

Had life never gone to hell he would have grown up around here. He would probably have spent some lazy afternoon exploring the train station. But life did go to hell and Harry was seventeen years old and trying to find the house he should have grown up in.

The same woman he had followed out of the train was moving toward the cobblestone street.

"Ma'am? Can you help me?"

The woman turned and gave him a pleasantly polite smile—for a second he could have sworn Mrs. Weasley was standing before him.

"Can you point me to Elder Road?"

"It's not far—but nothing is here. Mary and I were actually on our way there. My husband's a writer and we're renting Number Seven on Elder Road for a few months. Just follow us and we'll show you the way."

"Thank you…uhmm…do you need any help with those bags?"

She gave him another kind motherly smile. "That would be wonderful."

"I've never seen you before." The girl, Mary, told him frankly.

"Don't be rude." The woman reprimanded quietly. "My name's Belinda Langley and this little scamp is my daughter."

"I'm Mary Lydia Langley." The girl informed him seriously.

"I'm Harry…Harry Evans."

"I'm afraid we haven't lived here for very long so I don't quite know everyone yet but are you looking for anyone specific? I might be able to help."

"Err…not really. My family used to live there."

"That's lovely dear. Where at?"

"Number One Elder Road."

"The Haunted House!" The girl squealed excitedly. "Do ghosts really haunt it? Is it true a horseman rides the grounds at night? Does the ghost of an axe murderer really wander the house? Did people really _die _there? "

"Mary! Don't be rude. I apologize for my daughter, Heaven knows what tales the other children have been filling her head with."

"But Mum!" The girl whined. "Neal said it's true!"

"And if Neal said the sky was purple would you believe him?"

"No Mum." The girl sulked.

"I really am sorry. That house has been empty for so long everyone's heard at least one strange tale about it. You said your family used to live there, were you close to them?"

"I would have liked to think so but they died a very long time ago. I was actually just curious about the house and seeing as I had some time off I came to see."

"And the house was just abandoned? It's a little run-down but a remarkably beautiful lot. It just seems odd that the house would have been forgotten, it's worth quite a bundle of pounds."

Harry shrugged. "I guess no one really wanted to deal with the memories and paperwork. The old owners died a sudden death and it must have been painful for people to come here. Quite a couple of bad years back then, a lot of dead friends you see."

Mrs. Langley nodded sympathetically and wisely didn't ask anymore. "Elder Road is just around. This is the oldest part of Godric's Hallow; some of the houses here actually predate the founding of the town. It's an interesting place—there are old Manors here and a couple of newer additions that give it quite an odd feel, not to say it isn't lovely. Some of these properties are really grand and actually extend to a pond near here that's quite the town gathering spot."

"The Haunted House!"

"Mary!" Mrs. Langley reprimanded with a touch of exasperation.

In Harry's opinion Mary was right. It was an old Manor house; on one side of the house's dull red bricks were covered with ambitious ivy. A grand entrance was littered with years worth of foliage. The entrance opened up to an enclosed patio, which still held rusty deck furniture and a particularly ratty wicker chair. The second floor held a balcony that extended completely around the house and what should have been impressive French doors. Dark windows were randomly boarded up and shrouded in thick layers of dust. From that floor a circular tower rose, a metal railing encircling what was probably a single room made entirely of glass. It would definitely have been impressive save some window panes were broken and shredded decade's old window curtains fluttered.

Magic-wise the house was doing a little better. The defensive wards had been imbued with the most power and were still strong but the more common household charms were nothing more but faded runes. The Muggle aversion charm was particularly non-existent. At least there were still repelling charms on the house to stop overly curious explorers from entering.

High overgrown shrubs climbed over the outside fence and an old iron gate was nearly hidden under sleeping roses. The rest of the garden would have made a landscaper cringe. There was a rather large yard and cobblestone driveway that led to the house, both of which were buried under mounts of foliage.

"It's a beautiful house." Mrs. Langley sighed somewhat dreamily. "We're renting Number Seven for a few months but…if you should consider selling the house look us up."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Thank you for your help."

"No trouble at all dear."

Handing her back her bags Harry nodded his goodbye and crossed the stone street. His goodbye might have been a little brisk but admittedly he had other things on his mind. This was the house his parents spend their last days in; the same house Voldemort once walked into with the sole purpose of killing an infant.

He didn't know what to feel. He never knew James and Lily Potter—he couldn't morn them as people. He didn't know what made them laugh or if they liked eating Sunday breakfest in the glass tower. He mourned the life they should have had and the chance they never did. But he couldn't justly love an idea that never had physical form for him not to say he didn't love his parents—he just didn't know them. And he couldn't exactly forgive them from playing with his life. If they'd never defied Voldemort, Harry would never have been Chosen. And he couldn't exactly forgive them for having a child during the middle of war. They became icons of the Light; they should have known Voldemort wouldn't ignore them. Any child of theirs would have been marked for death no matter what. And Harry had been marked for death—only he had the strange luck to survive what no one else could have.

He pulled a heavy bronze key and twisted it into a groaning gate. A discreet pocketknife helped him shred some of the vines blocking the gate. From across the street he was aware other neighbors had joined Mrs. Langley. The excited whispers of children fluttered toward him; a small gaggle of them darting from their mother's squirts toward him and back.

With a disgruntled grown the gate swung open. Harry studiously ignored the curious neighbors and trudged up the driveway, dark eyeless windows starring down at him silently. This was the house he had been born in—a dusty symbol of the peaceful life that would have been his.

His winter coat fluttered behind him and Harry could picture the Dark Lord's robe doing the same as he walked up the entry. However instead of opening the door into the homey Potter entry Harry was met with blackened walls and years' worth of dust.

"Bloody hell…"

**S**

"Mr. Evans! Fancy seeing you here."

"Mrs. Langley." Harry greeted faintly. This part of Godric's Hallow didn't have that many restaurants and Harry suspected it was more than coincidence he ran across the same curious woman.

"This is another resident of Elder Road—"

"—Number Six to be exact—"

"—Laura Hillguard. We were just out doing some errands and we stopped by for a cup of tea. Do you mind if we join?"

"Not at all." Harry said somewhat tightly. He _did _want to talk to someone from Elder Road but Mrs. Langley gave him the feeling he was talking to a more amiable Petunia.

"What to you think of the house?" Mrs. Langley asked eagerly.

"It's a dump." Harry said with typical youthful bluntness.

"Do you have any plans for it?"

Harry shrugged, his eyes skipping over happily chatting patrons. "For the time, no. I was wondering if either of you know what happened to the last owners."

Mrs. Hillguard coughed uneasily. "It's near been twenty years since anyone's lived there. My mother-in-law—bless her soul—used to live were I do now. She once told me it was a very strange night. A young family used to live there, kept to themselves a lot—rarely left the house. They didn't even own a car. Reportedly they were murdered in their very own home but no one heard anything. There was some sort of explosion—someone wanted to burn down the house but it didn't take. The whole affair was handled very quietly; nothing was reported in the local papers. No one ever came by to check on the house and it just seemed to fall into disrepair."

Harry nodded carefully. The house must haven been under some pretty strong aversion charms at one time before falling under the Fidelus Charm. When the house was hidden under the secrecy charm the surrounding Muggles would have simply forgotten its existence. Pettigrew must have let the Fidelus dissolve considering Lily and James must have been the Charm's castors and without them Pettigrew wouldn't have had the necessary power.

"The house is in bad shape. It would certainly be easier to just tear it down—"

"Oh no!" Mrs. Langley gasped.

"—but I would prefer not to. I'm looking up a contractor to see what they think."

"You seem awful young." Langley commented. "I wouldn't have expected someone your age to want to live in such a small town, away from city life and your friends no doubt."

Harry gave the busybody a patiently annoyed frown. "And?"

"I don't mean anything by it." The woman said hastily. "Just that my husband and I have grown fond of that neighborhood and as you can guess homes in this area have been in most families for generations. If you should decide the house is too much trouble we would be more than happy to put up a reasonable offer."

Harry let his face fall into a blank mask. "As you said, most of these houses have been in families for generations. The years haven't been kind to my family and I am loath to let our history be forgotten. Number One Elder Road has been in our possession for many years—I do not see any reason to change that. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Of course, of course." Mrs. Langley agreed but Harry did not have to read her mind to know she wasn't about to let the subject rest.

It would probably cost less to just tear the whole building down but Harry couldn't bring himself to erase this part of his parents' lives. Besides Harry could afford to indulge in extravagant luxuries for the next fifty years and still be better off than most people he knew.

It was only money.

**S**

Harry winced as his contractors gutted another wall. Water damage had left many of the floorboards rotting and walls bloated and discolored. In all the years the house had stood empty no one had thought to come and apply simple preservation charms.

It stumped him.

This was the scene of Voldemort's defeat; the birthplace of the Boy-Who-Lived. Surely some tackles wizard would have had the bright idea to come here and filch some souvenir. He'd been perplexed till he realized exactly whom he was dealing with. Any wizard that would have known where the Potter's lived would have arrived at the house either by Apparation or floo. Anti-Apparation wards were one of the strongest wards still active as was the portkey-distablelization ward. The fireplace was nothing but a pile of bricks. Wizards wouldn't have known where the house was (since nothing more specific than Godric's Hallow was ever mentioned and haven forbid wizards ask Muggles for directions).

Luckily his parents had literally gutted the house of most possessions and the Muggle contractors weren't about to stumble on any magical item. For the time being Harry was content enough to watch as workers flung the inside of his house into large containers. Fixing his house kept his mind busy but not even that could completely distract him from what he waited for. It had been four days since his message had left. He'd never asked Amos for anything he couldn't have found out by himself but if the werewolves' reaction to his inquiries were any clue the vampires would have to think carefully about disclosing information.

Harry now had a rather blunt clue about what he was after. He knew where, had a sinking feeling about who, and needed to know what happened. But what could have happened that a millennia old specter would feel the need to haunt his dreams with cryptic memories and warnings? But like the werewolves Harry first needed to set up a meeting with the vampires. The Vampire Faolan of Clan Aknor was always a resource except Harry doubted the former was still in Britain or knew of matters outside his native country. Vampires were living historians, immortal keepers of times mortals forgot. They would know what terrible crime was committed, what deaths were ordered that a curse would echo hundreds of years later.

What mess did the Founders create that Rowsgath Tower would disappear in favor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn't the only one that liked playing word games.

**S **

Ron glanced suspiciously at Professor McGonagall. Besides him Ginny traded an uneasy look with him. After a stern look from the Professor Ron stopped letting his eyes wander. He didn't have to look behind him to see Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Luna Lovegood dutifully walked toward Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Unconsciously Ron and Ginny gravitated till they were nearly touching—they knew what was coming even if no one else did. Despite a six year friendship Ron knew without looking that Hermione would be just as clueless as the rest of the Gryffindors.

They'd arrived with the train only to be flagged down by Professor McGonagall the second they entered Hogwarts. The Weasley siblings had chosen to remain silent about Harry's withdrawal. The more time Harry had without the world at large knowing he was loose the safer he would be. By some miracle the news had been kept quiet over the holiday, Ron wasn't about to be the person to break it.

"The Headmaster is waiting for us in his office. _Puking Pansies_."

Behind him the remaining Gryffindor boys gapped dumbly as the guardian statue sprang away to reveal a hidden staircase. In contrast the girls remained composed—Hermione because she'd already witnessed that little trick and Luna…well Ron very much doubted anything could unhinge that girl any more than she already was.

Under the curious eyes of forgotten Headmasters the Gryffindors filed in. Behind his desk and surrounded by parchments and swinging silvery instruments Headmaster Dumbledore cheerfully welcomed them in.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope you all had pleasant holidays. Would any of you care for a lemon drop? Simply lovely sweets."

Interestingly enough Luna Lovegood and Seamus Finnegan each took one. Predictably Dumbledore happily beamed at them.

"I didn't simply call you up here to offer you sweets. Indeed, we have a serious dilemma before us. Mr. Potter will not be returning to Hogwarts. Unfortunately he has managed to elude his guards and is in grave danger. It is imperative Mr. Potter be reunited with his guards as soon as possible and your cooperation will be most beneficial. Do any of you believe young Harry may contact you for what ever reason in the following days?"

_Don't look into his eyes._

Ron swallowed, blue eyes focused on the spot between a pair of twinkling eyes. With a touch of anger for good measure he spoke, "I don't see him contacting me anymore than he did in the holidays."

Ginny refrained from thanking all the gods she knew…at least until she was back in her dorm room. For a moment she was afraid Ron would have stumbled and Dumbledore would _know_ something was up. Both Weasleys knew they couldn't lie to the Headmaster, not out of any misguided sense of respect but because the old wizard would have surely figured out some way to detect lies in the nearly two centuries he had lived. A pair of underage wizards had no hope of fooling the most powerful Light wizards alive.

Hermione delivered her opinion with classic analytical skills. "I'm sure as soon as Harry calms down he'll return on his own. He tends to be a tat unreasonable when he's emotional but he is usually very sensible." She paused as she brought out a very McGonagall-like frown. "He…he isn't in danger, is he?"

Blue eyes twinkled gently at the young witch. "As of yet no but his absence will be noted by inquisitive sources soon enough and Mr. Potter has always had the habit of drawing unwanted and often times harmful attention. I fear he will soon become the target of ill will should he remain without adequate protection."

Only luck prevented anyone from seeing Ron and Ginny wince. Both could just imagine where Harry would tell the Order to stick their protection.

Twin blue stars turned expectatively toward the rest of the Gryffindor boys. "And what do you say gentlemen?"

Seamus and Dean traded uncomfortable looks. They might have wisely chosen to remain oblivious to what mysteries Harry Potter kept but they knew without a doubt he would not appreciate the Headmaster questioning them. They might have never asked Harry directly but they weren't fools and had noticed the cold glares the Boy-Who-Lived would throw at Dumbledore. It was also hard to miss that dangerous glint that would occasionally emerge in emerald eyes; a glint entirely too sharp and angry.

Seamus bravely spoke up. In what was perhaps the first time he had ever spoken directly to the Headmaster he prepared himself to deny the nearly omnipotent figure of his childhood. "We wouldn't know. Harry doesn't talk to us or comes to us about any of this business. We know—or at least I know—it's a bit dangerous for him and us the closer people think we are. Plus Harry's a pretty private person…"

Next to him Dean nodded his head empathetically.

"Completely understandable." Blue eyes moved on persistently. "Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville gazed at the Headmaster in serious contemplation. Ron was hard pressed not to grab his fellow Gryffindor and tell him to keep his mouth shut. Another pair of blue eyes brightened noticeably the longer Neville was silent. "No—I mean to say Harry hasn't told me anything but…but he has the resources to hide without anyone finding him if he should so wish. I doubt anyone will find him if he doesn't want to be found."

"Ms. Lovegood?"

"Yes Mr. Dumbledore?"

An amused smile twitched under the Headmaster's large beard. "Do you know where Mr. Potter might be?"

"I do not, do you?" She answered gravely.

"I'm afraid my dear girl that I don't know either."

"Might I leave then? There's a pair of Groaning Gargoyles that has commandeered a closet on the first floor and I want to go pay them a visit before they turn to stone for another hundred years." Luna explained solemnly.

"Of course my dear." Dumbledore amiably replied despite Hermione's disgruntled frown. "I suppose you are all missing a most wonderful feast. Minerva if you would remain behind for a moment."

The Gryffindors and lone Ravenclaw quickly retreated to less intimidating company.

Outside a collective sigh escaped the students. Despite being a lemon-loving loon Albus Dumbledore still had a powerful presence.

"I hope the Headmaster finds Harry soon." Hermione confessed worriedly. If she noticed the uneasy looks everyone shared she never gave a sign.

"Err…right." Ron coughed lightly.

"It's just like Harry to get into this kind of mess. Merlin knows if he'll be able to take his NEWTs now."

Luna hummed in the silence.

"Mione? You do know Harry thinks Dumbledore is a complete git?" Ron asked uncertainly, honestly befuddled that his brainy friend could have remained oblivious to Harry's blunt non-verbal signs of aggression directed at their Headmaster.

"But…but why!"

"We'll see you later." Dean quickly excused himself and a curious Seamus. Dragging the latter along the two disappeared down the hallway.

For the first time Hermione glanced at the remaining students suspiciously. Slowly she asked, "What's going on?"

"Neville would you walk me to the paining of Mort the Mole? I feel the sudden need to ask Mort if Lady Rona has accepted his proposal." Luna asked airily.

Neville could only blink dumbly as he was led away by the odd Ravenclaw. He might have found the confidence to come up against most of his former adversaries but that had done nothing to help him deal with this particular mind-boggling witch.

Ron shrugged, his loyalty toward his friend preventing him from explaining the very real reasons as why Harry wasn't talking to Dumbledore. He could only vaguely answer Hermione. "Many things. I can't really say. You'd have to ask him."

Hermione scowled obviously not liking the response.

"Can't you tell me just a little bit? He's my friend _too_."

"You need to ask him." Ron replied evadingly.

"I suppose there is no use standing here. We don't want to completely miss the feast."

"Don't worry so much Hermione." Ginny offered. "Harry always manages to be fine."

"He does tend to land on his feet." Hermione agreed before sighing in exasperation when her pureblooded friends blanked over the Muggle saying. "Never mind."

"Before I forget a bunch of us were going to go flying and maybe play a game of Quidditch. School won't begin till Monday and you could always join us."

Hermione smiled at Ron's invitation before a thoughtful frown settled over her face. "That sounds lovely but I've a Charms paper for Professor Flitwick that I need to do some last minute checking on."

"Oh." Ron said as he fell silent. The trio had reached the Great Hall. "I guess another time. I'll see you later then I've got to talk to the rest of the team about a Seeker replacement."

"That's fine." She murmured, her mind already outlining what Charm book she would need to use.

Ron and Ginny were already walking away.

**S**

"**D**o they know anything?" Minerva McGonagall asked anxiously the moment they were alone.

For the first time some of the joviality faded from his grandfatherly face. "I'm afraid they don't or if they do they aren't willing to confide in me."

The Transfiguration Professor huffed indignantly. "Surely once they realized the danger Mr. Potter is in they would cooperate. For Merlin's sake the assassination attempt a couple months ago was probably done by a disgruntled wizard never mind You-  
Know-Who's followers!"

"Young Harry has always had the remarkable ability to inspire others—in their confidence, their hope, and as we saw in their loyalty. I fear the damaged relationship I have with Harry has made them wary of confiding in me."

McGonagall's face lit up with interest before falling back into her usual stern expression. Her dignity prevented her from behaving like a common busybody "I wish you would confide in me what disagreement has driven a wedge between you and Mr. Potter. You two certainly share a most frustrating stubbornness and if left to your own devices I very much doubt you'll ever resolve anything."

Albus gave his long time colleague a humorless smile. "I'm afraid my dear some things words will never fix. No Minerva, some things will stain our very souls."

In that warm office under Minerva's worried gaze Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily and knew better than to pray for forgiveness. He would not think of the young infant he left on a cold doorstop years ago with the knowledge the child would one day die to seal the death of the Dark Lord Voldemort. He would not think of the scruffy eleven-year-old boy that saw his parents for the first time in an enchanted mirror. He could not think of such things; not till the deed was done and he became an evil worse than Voldemort. He could not think of such things till the awful prophecy came to pass and the Wizarding World was safe from their own folly…at least for a time.

"The feast will begin soon Albus."

"Then we had better join our colleagues. Time stands still for no one."

**S**

"Mr. Evans? 'Member me? I'm Mary Langley from Number Seven. Anyway Mum wanted to invite you fro supper tonight." The girl asked excitedly, her hands fluttering at the thought of dinner.

Harry peered at the girl from around a copy of _Proposals for the Wizengamot Council, 1997 _that would be voted on next week. Naturally he couldn't show his face for a while so it was better his ambassadors know what he wanted

"Can you tell your mum I'm terribly sorry but I've a lot of paperwork that I need to go through."

Mary pouted adorably. "But I was hoping you'd come. I would have been lots of fun. You could have sat with me and played after supper. S'long as we didn't stay up too late Mum will let us play. Mum mostly invites old people that never want to play but she says you're a child and so am I!"

Harry's lips twitched upward. "I really am sorry but I've a lot of work."

Is it really a lot of work?" She asked pleadingly.

"I'm afraid so."

"I suppose I'll tell Mum She'll be terribly disappointed."

Once he was alone Harry resisted the urge to bury his head in the thick pack of papers he was going over. In just a week and a half he'd already turned down three invitations from Mrs. Langley, one from a Mrs. Warner, and another from Mrs. Gayle. It seemed as if the local housewives had wised up and started sending the children to pester him. Honestly he had no problem with spending an uncomfortable evening or two surrounded by people that thought he was a fool with too much money. He was just afraid he'd stumble over his web of lies and they'd figure out he was lying about everything but his first name.

The contractors had made quick work of the downstairs and he'd been camping in the living room for half-a-week. Harry couldn't wait till the work was done and he could raise the Muggle aversion ward. He had known it would be significantly slower employing Muggle contractors instead of Wizards but the last thing he wanted to do was make a significant purchase when he was supposed to be hiding. Muggles at least wouldn't look twice when he paid with a credit card from the 'Sweetish' Gringotts Bank.

Harry couldn't help but glance at the sky for the unknown time. Amos would come to him when he could and not a second before. He was the Elder of one of the largest British Clans and couldn't just disappear to answer a mortal boy. Still Harry couldn't help but feel a wash of irritation when the sky remained frustratingly empty.

**S**

_To whom it may concern:_

_Gringotts Bank has served our families for centuries in a commendable manner. The goblins employed by Gringotts have engineered to maintain Gringotts Bank as one the safest places in all of Wizarding Europe. However exemplary your service has been in past years this letter must unfortunately address a blithe on your record. It has come to our attention that certain individuals have made inquiries regarding our families' finances. It would seem that said parties were able to obtain confidential data despite Gringotts' security standards._

_Our families do not appreciate such a failing._

_Should Gringotts not correct such worrying behavior it will fall on our families to transfer our various accounts to other banks in order to ease our mind._ _Our various positions both within the Wizengamot and in our own private investments afford us little time to worry over such matters._

_For now we have faith that Gringotts will correct such laxes in protocol as soon as possible and remain one of the most secure places in all of Britain if not the world._

_Lord Potter_

_Lord Black_

_Lord Morrigan_

_Lord Gryffindor_

**S**

The days were cold and the nights colder this early in the year. January held the country in its bitter grip. Walking aimlessly down Diagon Alley Harry idly glanced at the empty steps that led into Ollivanders. The year was just beginning and already dark shadows were impaling themselves in places only cheer had existed. Ollivander had disappeared sometime during the middle of December and no one knew why. Some speculated he had gone into hiding while others hinted no one was about to see the wand-maker alive anytime soon. No one was coming forward claiming to involvement in his disappearance.

Since the news had come public wizards seemed to have unconsciously created a bubble of sorts around the shop. No one wanted to wander too close to the suddenly taboo shop. Harry himself made no motion to get any closer to the store. He didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself. He might have currently been hidden under a parsel-glamour spell (which he finally realized was a throwback to a some mutated serpent's chameleon abilities) but he knew better than to attract notice.

Grey-robed Aurors let their eyes scan the midmorning crowd as if Death Eaters would be proudly displaying their tattoos to the public. Harry had no real worries about the Aurors. They had no reason to call him to the side. Even if he turned into Knockturn Alley the Aurors had nothing but their suspicions and even then regulations 'encouraged' by questionable Ministry members prevented any effective action. The close confines of Knockturn Alley gave Harry the feeling the very shadows were reaching out toward him. He knew better than to project an aura of anything but confidence. Death Eaters weren't the only type of wizards that wouldn't think twice of pulling a knife or spell through your gut and most of the other types would commander your moneybag as well.

Under the watchful eyes of another pair of Aurors Harry entered Dulcis Alley and headed directly into the familiar Dark Carus Bar. With any luck the werewolf cousins would be having their lunch. Fortune was on his side and Bast and Sean Brungle were halfway through their meal. Signaling the waitress Artemis to bring a butterbeer to the table.

"Evan." Bast greeted promptly although his smile was not as ready as before and his eyes reflected a heavy guilt. Besides him Sean busied himself with his meal, his shoulders hunched stiffly.

Harry sighed softly. Guilt was such an awful emotion to dwell on—it was rarely productive never mind pleasant. "What's got you two in a stint?"

"We'd like to apologize—"

"—the meeting was a disaster."

"We wish we could have helped more."

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "There was nothing you could have done. Besides I found the answers I was looking for."

"We weren't much help." Protested Sean. "Not after all you've done to help us and by extension our Clan. We tried talking to Rolfe but he wouldn't listen."

'You got me the meeting and that's all I've any right to ask of you. You aren't the Elder—you haven't the power to disclose the information I was looking for."

The cousins relaxed somewhat but a lingering guilt remained in amber eyes. Guilt wasn't something Harry could ease on his own. It wasn't till the person recognized what was within their power and what wasn't that they were able to move past such emotions.

"Anyway…I just came by to see how you two were faring. I've heard some disturbing rumors circulating."

Both cousins darkened visibly. "I guess you want to know what really happened…"

It was exactly what Harry wanted to know but he felt slightly uncomfortable broaching the obviously sensitive subject. So he merely nodded his head and said nothing more.

"Gods…" Sean said as he tugged at his hair. "Just because the Dark Bird's been quiet the Ministry thinks to stick their nose where they aren't wanted. But Gods…"

"What did they think they were doing?" Bast spat bitterly.

Sean sighed wearily. "In the last war half the werewolves that died were killed by the Ministry while the other half died at the hands of the Dark chaps. Mind you—not all of us were lily-clean. There were a fair number of wolves that had no qualm of 'teaching' the wizards a lesson, the most famous or infamous if you will being Fenrir Greyback. Whether we want it or not we have a dark reputation and everyone else has long memories. The Department of Magical Creatures has issued a bounty on werewolf hides. We protected ourselves as best we could—limited Clan gatherings, secured correspondence, watched for overly curious people. But a group of bounty hunters caught the sniveling Terrance…"

Sean practically snarled the name. Bast took over the tale. "From Clan Luren—gods help them—Terrance ratted them out. The bounty hunters staged the attack—because of Terrance they knew when a gathering would occur. You have to understand Evan, we know the dangers but there's a part inside of us—even the children born of werewolves—that is called to the Pack. We're not solitary creatures—we can't be less it drives us mad. That's what a lone 'wolf is you know, they go mad without the Pack. Their plan was to take out all of Luren and then move on to the next Clan. I don't know how they did it but they weathered the onslaught. Merlin help them they pushed back the hunters. And that gained them enough time to warn all the surrounding Clans. But Luren suffered and many died. The Elder, men, women, children—they even killed the son of a werewolf that didn't even carry the curse. But thankfully Luren was able to alert the other Clans that might have been compromised no thanks to the sniveling Terrance."

"Did the bounty hunters escape?" Harry asked quietly.

Sean gave a bitter snort. "Some, but our brothers and sisters took down plenty of those bastards down. It doesn't matter. There's still a bounty over our heads and there's still hunters out there that have no problem with collecting it."

For the first time the other patrons' presence seemed to magnify till Harry could almost imagine everyone's aura reaching for him. Harry knew they couldn't hear them but he couldn't help but think any one of them could be a bounty hunter staking out the cousins—just waiting for the them to exit into the Muggle side alley and that would be the last time Harry would ever see them.

"Are you sure…you shouldn't go into hiding?"

Bast sneered angrily while Sean sighed softly. Apparently the cousins held quite different ideas regarding that issue.

Naturally Bast brashly spoke first, "And go where? How can we leave Britain without bypassing some sort of official? Only one of us can apparate. What about the rest of our Clan? Half the portkeys out there will drop you in the middle of the Atlantic never mind were we are going to scavenge enough money to buy one. The longer we can keep our heads down the better well be—"

"—but that won't save us forever." Sean interrupted in what Harry suspected was a well-worn argument. "Luren was compromised by one fool. That's all they need—just one fool. A fool that knows our name, where we live, when we gather, and has no problem saying so if they think it will save them."

Harry was silent. He could sympathize with them—could even relate with the feeling of being enclosed and hounded from all sides. But was he prepared to do more than sympathize? Could he even reason with a deeply mistrustful race? Harry studied the cousins intently and finally decided if only for their sake would he offer his protection. Besides he had nothing better to do while he waited for Amos and if his present diversion included sheltering wanted magical beings all the better.

"If you trust me…if you believe I won't lead you into an ambush, then I offer you Sanctuary. Hear me out—it's not just some shack or flat to stash you two, I offer you the protection of…" Harry quickly wrote down what he wanted to say. While the trio was protected by silencing wards Harry couldn't dismiss someone being a lip-reader and what he had to say was too important to be uncovered. So he wrote it down.

_Tirsgath Castle and the forests of Lorintha the Wise._

"It has wards most Aurors have never seem much less know how to break. However the last time anyone's stepped into that Castle must have been nearly a century to date never mind actually figuring out when someone actually lived there—"Harry was interrupted as Sean seemed to recover from his daze.

"Lorintha's Forest is nothing but a myth!" Sean nearly sputtered. "In History of Magic they teach us the Forest as being something like a continental Atlantis. Some wizards delved into serious magic and blasted the Forest out of our existence."

Harry was beginning to suspect he might have learned something useful if he had ever cared to stay awake during History of Magic.

"About Lorintha's Forest…" Harry cringed slightly. "That's not exactly how the story goes. This is what happens when an incredibly powerful—if short-sided—group of wizards and witches gets together and basically casts a lot of magic to make the area unplotable and unfindable and then they had the ill-luck to die without letting anyone in on the secret. It's not all that uncommon—apparently you lose a lot of areas because of concealment charms. Every once in a while some place will spring up when the charms weaken. The nature of the charms placed on the Forest were so strong that besides a few weak points they haven't faded all that much."

Bast and Harry shared an amused look as Sean gapped. "Do you know what kind of creatures are rumored to inhabit the forest? It was supposed to be some sort of Noah's Ark."

It was Harry's turn to blink. "Err…that's nice?"

"Honestly!" Sean huffed. "You're offering us lodging at a lost wonder of the magical world and you haven't a clue what that means."

Harry had spent nearly seven years in the magical world but every once in a while the handicaps of having a Muggle upbringing would rear its ugly head.

He shrugged those concerns away. "You know how to contact me when you have an answer—same way as before. If you decide to take me up on my offer then I'll need to key you into the wards. This won't be some charity handout—the Castle itself needs some extensive repairs and the forest apparently needs to be catalogued."

"Are you aware how many bloody galleons it will cost to undertake a project like that? For Merlin sake's you're talking about a Castle!" Sean nearly spluttered.

"_Think_ about it carefully." Bright emerald eyes focused on amber ones. "_What _family claimed to be Guardians of Lorintha?"

"T-The last was Haskell…which came from Tierney…who according to _Wizarding Genealogy_ came from Rowena Ravenclaw herself…but all those families are dead."

"Surprising how many magical families end up dead. By the way how exactly to you know all of this?"

Bast snickered as his cousin blushed. "It was my specialty in law."

"I'm afraid I have to go but I wish you would think seriously on my offer. This war isn't going to get prettier and you are perfect scapegoats."

The Brungle cousins nodded seriously as Harry stood up. While the war wouldn't end immediately Harry knew without knowing how that the werewolves didn't have much time left.

Behind him the cousins shared thoughtful glances. Finally Bast spoke hesitantly as if he didn't quite believe it himself. "From Haskell to Tierney to Ravenclaw. But if everyone's gone then the primary line was Mor-Morrigan."

Despite themselves two amber-eyed faces swiveled to the empty doorway where Evan Mortifer had disappeared through.

**S**

**AN: Never fear! I WILL finish this story. I was going to write in Amos in this chapter but I figured you'd prefer seeing a chapter posted.**

**Anyway…anyone got any good names for a female character? Everything I've thought about sounds…egh.**


	27. The Wizard's War

**The Wizard's War**

**S**

There was fierceness in his eyes few men possessed. A bright flame that entranced and ensnared but all too easily consumed. He drew men and women like moths too a fire and just as easily replaced life with death. He had been an extraordinary child, a brilliant student, and a man born to lead.

The fact he had taken his destiny down a dark path changed nothing.

"My Lord." A black-robed figure bowed. "Mr. Lestrange has arrived."

Voldemort ignored his servant for a minute. His body gave no sign he even knew the servant obediently waited for a command. However anyone remotely magically attuned would have sensed the magical charge flickering around the room—a sleeping beast ready to be woken at his Master's call.

"Direct him to the Council Room."

"As you wish my Lord." The servant bowed once more before retreating.

Silence descended once more. Surrounded by his private sanctuary Voldemort carefully stretched cramped muscles and stiff limbs—something human enough he would never have considered doing in anyone's presence. Long hours spend bent over his desk had succeeded in cutting his circulation and reminding him of the follies of a mortal body. Even his eyes were gritty and tired after hours of scanning dozens of wizards' nearly illegible handwriting.

Reading reports was not something he enjoyed but he had long since realized a war was blind without intelligence. In order to assure his coming reign he needed to know all he could of his enemies. The fact his many servants hailed from all aspects of Wizarding society gave him a network of information few could claim. Unfortunately it had the unforeseen effect of saddling him with droning report after droning report. But such things he now saw as the price of ruling. He knew he was meant to rule and by all the powers he would _rule_ as something other than a figurehead. He knew all too well that some of his more treacherous servants aspired to lead _him _down _their_ ambition.

Power was his birthright and he guarded it as jealously as he did all else that was his. But even he knew he couldn't do it all on his own and it fell upon him to delegate accordingly.

There were many types of men; men who carried deceit in their hearts and men who gave everything they were for their beliefs. There were men like Lucius Malfoy who would speak with a silver tongue and whose eyes were always searching for power. That particular wizard had been most cleverly brought to task by his very enemies. As a fugitive the formerly prominent politician now depended on Voldemort's favor. With Malfoy Senior bound tightly in his noose the son was now completely under his father's Master. There would be no redemption for that snakeling.

And then there were men who were not only brilliant but loyal to the point of fanaticism.

"My Lord." Murmured Rebastan Lestrange as Voldemort entered the Council Room reserved for meetings with his Inner Circle. His most devout servant remained bowed till Voldemort took his seat at the throne like chair at the head of his table.

"What news to you bring?" Voldemort said, a cold sibilant whisper echoing his voice.

"It is done my Lord. You have only to say the word and the deed will be done." Lestrange answered promptly. Intelligent dark brown eyes could not quite hide the fact Lestrange was certifiably 'off' ever since his release from Azkaban. Whether this cultivated madness born in that hellish prison would prove useful to Voldemort was yet to be seen.

The usefulness of madmen should never be discounted—nor should the sheer unpredictable strength of their convictions.

"Have you negated all the defenses?"

"Yes my Lord. Not even your men will know the complete plan till you order it so. With no warning the targets will fall before us, completely unawares."

Ruby eyes scanned the detailed parchments outlying Lestrange's assault. "You have done well."

"I live to serve." Lestrange murmured humbly, a smug glint not quite hidden behind his aristocratic mask.

"What news of your brother?"

"He is working diligently as we speak. It won't be long before he can present his research to you."

"Keep me updated." Voldemort commanded. Lestrange recognized a dismissal when he heard one.

"We live to serve." He repeated with the same devotion he shared with his twin brother.

In the silence Voldemort spoke quietly but powerfully. "It is only a matter of time before those who stand in my way are crushed under my reign."

From every corner of the room dark shadows stirred sleepily.

**S**

"I need to know." Harry whispered in what some might have thought to be a prayer. "I need this to end."

Another day had passed and the sky remained frustratingly empty, the growing gray clouds deliberately mocking him. A storm was moving in and his body seemed to grow increasingly tenser as the electric charge seemed to build up in the sky. In the end the only way he could stave off nervous madness was to throw himself fully into activity—whether asking the construction workers if there was anything he could smash or fervently reading through some of Slytherin's more obscure tomes.

And day after day wards layered upon wards grew—everything from pixie repellents too a blood ward meant to burn letifolds to a pretty iffy spell that would self-destruct Number One Elder Road and a sizeable chunk of Godric's Hallow. The last ward Harry was pretty sure would have been highly illegal if it wasn't for the fact no modern book held any record of it. The fact that Harry had to bleed along the perimeter of the property automatically shunted it away as part of the Dark Arts not to even mention its destructive effects.

Wizards had never dealt well with the idea of blood; all too often it had been used against them. In all truth Harry should have shared in their phobia—his blood had been a part of the resurrection ritual that revived a man bent on taking the world as his own. But despite Dumbledore's lack of judgment it had also been blood that kept him safe, blood that had been his mother's gift.

"Child, you shouldn't brood so much." A woman's rich voice said softly.

Harry didn't respond for a long moment. "Welcome to my home cousin."

"Yes… I see." She said uncertainly taking in the unfurnished study. "Personally I always pictured you in Grimmauld Place…but Sirius always hated the house so I suppose you're better off here…just where is here? I hope you realize how much trust I have in you when I accepted an unmarked portkey."

"I appreciate your faith Andromeda. This is my home, or will be as soon as the remodeling is finished. This is the house my parents once lived in and the place where Voldemort was defeated."

Despite herself the witch glanced uneasily around her. This was the place where an incredibly prominent figure of her adult life proved himself to be human and weak. This was where Voldemort met an end that made him nothing more than a spirit for over a decade.

_Trust Harry Potter to make it his home._

"I was unaware this house was still standing." Andromeda said with a nervous rasp to her voice, much to her shame.

Harry merely shrugged. There wasn't really anything to say.

Andromeda preferred not to linger overlong thinking about just _where_ she was. She might think the Dark Lord was a tyrannical power-monger that didn't play nice with others but he was still a vengeful power-monger that had no qualms about ordering death.

"How have you been?"

"Fine I guess."

Andromeda frowned faintly but didn't say anything else. "News of your…absence was broken a week ago by the Daily Prophet."

Despite the levity of the situation Harry smirked. "And the Wizengamot?"

Andromeda was a lady—refined and sophisticated. And that was the only thing that prevented her from snarling her annoyance. "I'm not sure if the Ministry was more handicapped with Fudge or Diggory. Fudge was an idiot and a bureaucrat but all you had to do was wave a shinny galleon in front of him to distract him. I know you hoped Diggory's arrogance would make him paranoid enough to question everyone's well-meaning intentions but that was before the Diggorys was attacked. Now his paranoia is being cultivated by Light extremist."

Harry blinked. _News to him_. "What happened?"

"The day after news of your 'expulsion' was broken Diggory's home was attacked. His wife was injured and reportedly the grave of his son was incinerated. Harry…it doesn't look well."

Andromeda breathed in deeply, trepidation briefly flickering across her face. "There is no official reason being released about why you have withdrawn from Hogwarts but there is a lot of speculation. Thankfully there is enough uncertainty no one can make any definite conclusions."

"What do they say?" Harry's voice was mild—pleasant even. There was nothing in his stance to indicate he was upset or unsettled.

"Many things," She said evadingly but grudgingly added more. "They say Dumbledore has driven you from Hogwarts and the Light; that you have fled into the Armies of the Dark and heeded the Dark Lord's call. Others say you've been sent to train so you may take your place next to the Aurors. And of course there's some that say you've run away to India."

Besides thinning lips Harry gave no outward sign he was at all bothered by the news. Andromeda was silent as she studied the lightning fast shadows flicker in emerald depths. From her daughter she gathered her young Lord Black was rather sensitive when dealing with the dead Diggory boy. Thankfully it didn't handicap his dealings with the elder Diggory but no one, not even the Boy-Who-Lived, could be totally indifferent when one watched someone be murdered right before your eyes.

Her daughter's profession could be down right cruel at times. At some point all field-Aurors couldn't help but wonder and doubt. Even cheerful Nymphadora would ask herself had she been a second faster, a tat smarter, a bit more powerful could she have changed tragedy into triumph. In the same manner some part of Harry would always wonder if he could have done anything to save the Diggory boy. And some part of Andromeda realized something in that moment, a cruelty that seemed to propagate itself year after year in the form of nearly everyone that was drawn to the boy-Lord before her.

"Nothing that happened to _any _of the Diggorys is your fault." She practically blurted out with a fierceness that surprised even her. Harry didn't say anything and perhaps that was more telling then if he had. In his silence one thing was clear, though he uttered no harsh denials neither did he dole out wavering acceptance.

All Aurors were periodically reviewed by a mind-healer and Andromeda belatedly realized that the boy who had seen the Dark Lord more times than any child should, had been left to flounder past common and destructive human reasoning. But now that child wasn't a child anymore and Andromeda was woefully unprepared to reach past the boy's shields.

"What news of the Governing Council?"

Andromeda reined in her wandering thoughts. "They have proven to be a good balancing force for the Minister."

"How many to you think are compromised by _outside_ factions?"

"At least two. Not enough to cause serious problems but more than enough to drop one wrong word and prove a nuisance."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose irritably. Logically he knew he had no right to be upset. Honestly he had more success than he had any right to expect. But that was the danger—men with power are very susceptible to the promise of more power. He had chosen well though—the men and women meant to balance the Minister would rein in the man from extreme reactions. Either that or they would waste time bickering amongst themselves.

"How many of my appointees remain…intact?"

Andromeda smirked. At that moment the eldest niece of Lord Augustus Orion Black shown brightly. "They have not been compromised by the factions. They know and for the moment they remember under whose banner they were elected. Though not all are pledged to our cause they know they are being watched."

"How far can we trust them?"

"My best estimate will be till the end of the war. They might tread tentatively while they've been linked to Black, Potter, Morrigan, and Gryffindor…if you don't mind me asking Harry, where did you find Gryffindor…and why has he kept such a low profile? Wouldn't Gryffindor be more…able to face the Heir of Slytherin?"

Andromeda didn't know what to make of the unreadable look Harry gave her. There was something of wry amusement and a tang of bitterness but there was also so much more.

Harry for his part didn't know whether to laugh or snarl. Aberforth was probably not even in the right state of mind to face off anyone in his _prime_ much less now when he was an old man that didn't live in this world as much as he did in the next. And now Gryffindor had passed into his hands and he didn't dare draw any more attention to himself. Besides, to invite Gryffindor to face the Heir of Slytherin spoke of suicide since they happened to be the same person. Him.

So he said nothing and she knew there were things he could not talk about, at least not with her. So Heaven forgive him if he played with her trust a bit more than she would knowingly allow. There were just some things he couldn't say out loud much less confide in her.

"Gryffindor has never been in any condition to make himself a target. You shouldn't forget Andromeda—not all blood breeds true."

Andromeda simply blinked blankly at her young Lord, taking his words to mean the family lacked power.

…_and sometime it does, much to our dismay. _Harry thought silently as Andromeda left the grounds to apparate home. The Seers gift bred true in Aberforth and made him mad as a hatter—of course his line had power. It just wouldn't do anyone any good having that particular Lord Gryffindor face off against Lord Slytherin. Voldemort himself inherited a healthy amount of power from his infamous forefathers never mind what other Wizarding line unknowing mingled with his. Not to belittle Muggleborns but there were some things predestined genetics did gift as Harry was beginning to see more clearly. Some gifts that were made stronger after each generation.

**S**

"Saints preserve us." Bast swore softly.

His arms wrapped automatically around one of his 'Pack-sisters'. They'd all felt it—that intangible part of them that simply knew the moment the Pack Alpha died. The connection had been severed, it's backlash amplified by the half-moon. And they couldn't help but come to the house on Lombard Park where their Clan Elder, Pack Alpha, and surrogate father had perished. His house a burning pyre and his life disappearing into ashes.

Sean had always been the more sensible of the cousins and as much as he wanted to start howling in rage he needed to keep a cool head. And right now he was trying to comprehend how Rolfe could have been compromised. Either he had been followed home or someone had betrayed them—neither possibility gave him any comfort. Because Rolfe was dead—trustworthy, calm, warm Rolfe. Rolfe who sheltered two newly bitten werewolves and gave them a home, a family, and a life when they truly believed they had nothing else.

He needed to calm down; needed to focus on this moment and not on his mentor's burning home. The same home Sean and Bast stayed in for three months after they'd run from their own home, too scared to stay with their family.

"Fall back. Scatter and regroup in Hivell." Sean ordered and hoped to God his voice wouldn't crack.

Most of the gathered wolves looked at him resignedly—shock and grief still bright in their eyes.

"How can you! You're just going to run away and leave Rolfe burn like he was nothing." Snarled Arran, a young high-strung werewolf Sean had never found much use for.

Arran would never know just how much Sean wanted to agree; wanted to track the bastards that did this. But Rolfe had also trusted him to keep the Clan safe.

Sean moved with what could only had been werewolf speed. "Listen to me. We don't know what happened, we don't know who did is, and we don't know if they're still here."

"Let them come. I'll teach them what it truly means when you cross a 'wolf." Arran said heatedly.

"And you will show them a dead 'wolf." Sean snarled back. "Or do you think they'll have any trouble tearing you apart, never mind how they got past Rolfe's guards. Do you think you can protect the whole Clan, keep the children safe as you're off tearing some bastards throat?"

Arran's color was still high but at least now the reckless anger had subsided in the surrounding faces. Sean growled his orders once more. "Fall back and regroup. Pass by anyone not here and tell them to hide for two days before they send a scout to us. "

For a moment Arran looked like he might rebel but that second passed. The other werewolves were already disappearing into the shadows. Like a petulant child Arran threw him a foul look and stomped away.

"You alright there?" Bast asked hesitantly.

Sean didn't say anything. Glancing at his cousin once he turned back into the shadows, the half-moon's faint light illuminating his path.

He wasn't okay—wouldn't be anytime soon. Rolfe was dead and burning and it was up to him to protect the Clan. He would not be fool enough to reject Evan Mortifer's offer. Because while he might not understand everything about the young man he called friend he highly suspected Evan's ties with Morrigan ran deep. And Morrigan wanted to break the warring power bases. If that meant offering a werewolf Clan sanctuary then so be it. Sean would trust Evan to protect his Clan and hope he didn't wake surrounded by burning wreckage and unfriendly wands.

**S**

The walls trembled as another blast could be felt ricocheting throughout the building. Dust invaded noses and eyes as the roof shuddered. The ceiling groaned disgruntledly as the structure took the brunt of the blast.

"By the Gravekeeper and his Gold." Heltrop swore softly. Deep within the confines of Gringotts all goblins reconciled themselves with the fact they might very well lose their lives from a collapsed cave system. And this time he had truly believed that would be his fate.

The past had taught them too many structural charms would interfere with the wards and that was one thing Gringotts Bank could not make second-rate. Now as the building wavered under attack Heltrop could only hope the cave systems were soundly carved out.

After ten agonizingly long minutes Heltrop gave into the shaky hope that it was over. His body still trembled with unused adrenaline. Knobby fingers clumsily tapped a glass bauble around his neck. The smoky bead flashed red twice before glowing a steady aqua blue.

"Beruth, Master Cursebreaker, Level Three." A voice crackled to life.

"This is Heltrop, Level Three Supervisor. Contact the Cursebreakers and Guards in your command. I want to know the damage, ward stability, casualties, and how much of Gringotts has been compromised by the attack."

"Right away Master Heltrop." The glass trinket flashed red once before fading into swirling gray smoke.

Somehow Heltrop knew this was going to be a long day.

Twenty-one hours, one small riot, five upset dragons, and more pepper-up potions than was good for any goblin Heltrop found himself in the last briefing of the day. He was tired, hungry, and long since out of patience.

Most days Heltrop found great pride in being Level Three Supervisor of England's Gringotts' Bank. He might not be in charge of Level One but who wanted to deal with Wizards anyway? Level Three was fine by him. His Level dealt in younger vaults—most of them for first- or second-generation Muggleborns. They were generally pleasant enough customers. Instead of being the object of pureblooded distain Heltrop greatly enjoyed unsettling ignorant Muggle sensibilities. But today Heltrop seriously considered either barricading his door or retiring. Not only did he have to haul in all the off-duty personnel but he had to organize them and systematically check each vault's warding as well as clean up and repair the mess. He was just thankful the younger vaults mostly held less complex wards (with goblins, money equaled security), most of them new and without any sign of deterioration. He could only wince when he caught the fierce scowl of Master Unthred who was in charge of Level Twelve, home of the oldest vaults Gringotts still had in operation. Those wards were trying at the best of times and a literal nightmare for any Wardmaster and Cursebreaker assigned to check their integrity. It especially got a little difficult when older wards mutated once magical decay allowed different magics to mesh.

"I want a brief report of every level and the precise time in which the attack spread." Master Supervisor Onrraes grumbled. "I believe Master Zitroh should begin."

Master Zitroh blinked blearily obviously fighting off a very persistent headache. "At five thirty in the morning an object crossed the nightly perimeter ward. It was unfortunately too small to attain a detailed or reliable reading. Additional wards sensed no sentinent life although the carrier magic displayed an usually high level of animation. Some could argue it as bordering life. The object broke apart and disappeared from our sensors although right before that event our sensory charms were able to predict the trajectory of the pieces. A high number correlate to the areas destroyed in the following blasts."

"Why wasn't the alarm raised?" Master Supervisor Onrraes angrily demanded, his face's reddish glow betraying just how upset he was.

Master Zithroh gulped nervously, his eyes darting to the other goblin-Master. Weakly he said, "I-It was…"

"But?" Master Supervisor Onrraes said sharply, his black eyes missing nothing.

Zithroh voice was even weaker as he continued, "Only Level One was placed on alert. We were unaware the…foreign magics would completely disregard our wards. By the time the Level One Guards confirmed the spread of the attack, the foreign magic was no longer on that Level; Level Two and Three had suffered structural damage in Section Beta and Delta."

Master Supervisor Onrraes gave the unfortunate goblin one last dark glare before moving on; however, no one there was naïve enough to believe this was the last Master Zithroh would hear of it. The goblin-Master had been arrogant enough to believe there weren't beings out there capable of effectively going against goblin wards. Had Zithroh learned nothing of the last time Gringotts was breached? After all it was why his predecessor was now supervising the Yarrow Mines, a troop of goblin offenders as well as the occasional human Gringotts had an interest in making "disappear".

"Level One Master Findel—continue."

Master Findel looked decidedly pale as the spotlight switched to him. "At the time the Guards were patrolling Section Alpha and Gamma. Because the Alpha Guards were in such close proximity to Section Beta they felt the first blast. The Guard-Captain sounded the alarm but by then Section Delta had come under fire. He said the ground beneath him trembled and he later came to believe it was a result of the blast that destroyed Imora Hallway in Level Three Section Alpha."

Master Supervisor Onrraes' eyes narrowed suspiciously but no one could tell what his mind had pounced on. The goblin-Masters seated around the conference room stiffened simultaneously. Onrraes, son of Oncarj, had a reputation as being frightenly intelligent when it came down to finding out the truth.

"Any casualties?" Master Supervisor Onrraes calmly asked, his tone deceptively passive.

"No—none. Both Guard patrols were in different Sections when the blasts were detonated."

"Master Heltrop." Master Supervisor Onrraes asked with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The surrounding goblins were caught between relief and apprehension. Whatever it was that led to the attack Onrraes had come to understand it; whether it was something the goblin-Masters wanted to hear was still up to debate. "Any casualties?"

Heltrop blinked. His mind had been geared up to summarize the path of the attack when Onrraes threw him in for a loop. "Eh…no. The Guard patrols were in Section Delta and Gamma when Section Alpha and Beta came under attack."

"Master Dadver." The Level Four Master gulped loudly.

And so the Master Supervisor continued his round of questions. The goblin-Masters abruptly realizing that while the attack may have caused havoc with their wards and a headache of structural damage _no one_ had died.

Master Supervisor Onrraes sighed wearily, suddenly less menacing and more tired. "I understand thieves; I understand greed and desperation; I understand arrogance and power but…but our Attacker ordered this strike because none of them. We can't justly name him Enemy either because the attack wasn't directed against Gringotts or goblins; it was…retaliation.

"Gringotts has always held power because of the sensitive nature of the things we guard, and we have always held that to our tactical advantage. We have survived in this world by playing that to our favor…but someone has apparently seen fit to reprimand us."

"Preposterous! Gringotts has never sanctioned the trade of sensitive information!" Squawked the Level Seven Master.

Onrraes snorted, "Don't get caught in the illusions we feed the world. Just because Gringotts has never sanctioned it doesn't mean certain goblins haven't felt the need to intervene or indulge in a little greed. Have you not realized the path of the blasts? Read the reports very carefully. All the blasts were detonated away from our personnel—our Attacker obviously doesn't indulge in the needless waste of life. The blasts weren't powerful enough to collapse the structure but they destroyed more than enough furniture. The magical release was also not intended to damage any of the protective wards around Gringotts nor did they invade any area members of the public had not at one time or another ventured into. In the end the explosions merely caused havoc with the vault wards...sSomeone has given us something else to occupy our free time."

More than one goblin-Master gapped at the Master Supervisor. They wisely stayed silent as Onrraes contemplated out loud.

"But who…the timing was not a coincidence. Our Attacker is probably involved in Britain's current war against their Dark Lord. Who would have the power to coordinate this attack? The Dark Lord hasn't the time to go against us—not with the Ministry and Dumbledore against him. He hasn't the power to spare—not to initiate this kind of attack which was able to actively choose on the field who to attack and who not to. Dumbledore hasn't the manpower to dedicate to such a campaign nor the morals to indulge in such destruction. This also has too much cunning to be born of Ministry interference. Unless some rogue faction operated alone no one there would risk such a strike. There's also Potter but we don't know how strong he really is or if he would strike against us, especially not with the attention everyone has on the boy. Then there's Morrigan but besides the protection he extended his allies he hasn't done much of anything else…although some reports suspect he owns or influences a significant portion of the Governing Council of the Wizengamot. It's no secret Morrigan has taken in Potter to his circle and Gryffindor finally emerged from obscurity to stand by them. We can only assume Gryffindor has a new Heir because that line hasn't given its allegiance to Dumbledore despite his blood connection."

"You can't honestly believe that farce! None of them would dare go against us in such a manner. These wizards are too dependent on Gringotts for their galleons to ever endanger their dealing with us."

"A-And bes-besides", another goblin stuttered in. "Gringotts holds their secrets, their history. It is in their custom and blindness to pile us with their lineage and make them vulnerable to the weakness the notion of magical purity breeds in them."

Onrraes face narrowed. "And that has been the case for many turns of the sun. The wizards have always stumbled over their ties to the wizarding world, their weakness in the face of goals and ideals, their strength born of the binds of blood and common ground—and we have always had power because we are the keepers. But what do you do when someone comes along who simply…doesn't care? Who was never indoctrinated to seek the mantle of Family, history, and age?"

"It certainly wouldn't be Voldemort who glorifies his status by claiming the Founder line nor would it be Dumbledore who seeks unity for the wizard-kind. The Ministry may war within itself but its Old Laws have insured that only those reared in the old ways will ever have power to govern."

"That only leaves countless _hamier-_born, they carry the ways of the _hamier_ and the innocence of the old ways."

Heltrop couldn't help but snort disdainfully. "The Muggle-born have never had anything greater than their monthly wages and a few personal effects."

"You forget the sleeping lines." Onrraes commented, his voice vaguely reprimanding. "After the last Heir of Morrigan the Raven died amongst the _hamier _we lost his get…and because of our oversight the line awoke behind a man we've never met before and who might not even exist. A man that has managed to cultivate the Potter child when men more feared and very likely more powerful have failed. A man we know nothing of and who reportably holds too great a sway on our world to be _ignored._

"And yet that is what we have been doing. We've haggled and cursed all the others but he—he we have treated in silence…and someone within Gringotts has helped keep that silence. We are the Keepers of History, the protectors of their lines, and rightfully should have been informed of the rebirth of this line. Our own policies have been turned against us and now someone within the bowels of Gringotts has hidden what knowledge we need to stand against this man."

Heltrop had just _known_ this was going to be a long day.

**S**

The night the vampire Amos finally came to Harry he was less than pleased. The construction at Godric's Hallow had tapered off as the days went by and the house's empty hallways seemed to grow as the time wore on. Despite his impulsive decision to make the house on Godric's Hallow his home he hadn't been able to make much headway in that department. Too many rooms smelled of fresh paint and nothing else. In typical male fashion he had bought or scavenged a few pieces from stores and storage but the house still felt too cold. He'd roamed through the Black and Morrigan houses but most of their contents had creped him out—besides taking anything from a Black house needed to be done with a grain of salt. That Family was just perverse enough to curse their own furniture.

The winter snow was still packed in heavy layers in the outside world but in the inside Harry found himself studying a Japanese glazed jade vase that even he knew would burn more than a couple people's moneybags—combined.

One moment he held the vase up in the air, idly watching the light shine on the surface. The next second the vase was in the air and Harry was twisting away from the empty mantle and toward the large curtained windows. His body crouched toward the ground, one hand holding a humming ash wand while the other was raised like a serpent's fangs, black flames licking the long digits.

The drapes fluttered and the black flame rose higher in response.

Harry's eyes scanned the empty room, magical tendrils clumsily flickering through every shadow and corner.

"The longer you choose to hide the worse it'll be when I find you." He said in a singsong sort of voice. One particular shadow stirred uneasily before it could completely stifle the motion.

A second later a yellow-eyed woman materialized, her feet crunching the broken vase. Brown-skinned and pale-haired the woman was as eternally beautiful as all of those of her kind. But Harry knew immediately she was younger than most vampires he had met so far. Black Flame sprang in thin streams loosely winding around the woman before she could make a move.

"Err…Hello?"

Harry didn't release his magic. Expertly raising one eyebrow he waited for the vampire to continue.

She gave him a nervous smile. "You would be Hari?"

"Harry."

"Ari."

"Harry."

"Arry."

A sigh.

"…close enough. And you would be?"

"Edina Bauth. Any chance you would offer me a chair and maybe something to drink?"

The serpentine flames closed in on the vampire.

"I guess not." She squeaked. "Now no need to be hasty. Can't we all just be friends?"

"Now Lady Bauth I'm the sort of bloke that likes to take things slow. Typically when someone breaks into my house it takes more than a bit to move past initial feelings of distrust. Especially when I don't know what you're here for." He lectured her, the black flame ghosting along her dark skin.

"Call me Edina. Now-before-you-blast-me-you should-know-Elder-Caliga-sent-me."

The flames closed in.

"I said Amos sent me!"

With a surge of magical discharge they disappeared.

"I know." Harry dismissed. "That was for breaking in. Your Elder should have instructed you against that."

The vampire pouted. "Sorry. Thought you could take a joke."

Harry didn't change his expression. He couldn't afford to see jokes under every rock—not when his life was at stake. Morosely he wondered when he became such a stick in the mud. Only a few years ago he would have burned with curiosity over his visitor.

"No need to be so glum mate. I'm to take you to Gadvena where our good Elder will be holing up for a few weeks."

"When do we leave?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

A wicked gleam lit Edina's eyes a second before she lunged toward him. With an impetuous grin the vampire called out her answer. "Now!"

Trapped in twisting space Harry had the presence of mind to close his eyes tightly and pray his stomach didn't disagree too much with this method of travel.

Note to self: watch mouth around vampires…particularly young vampires.

**S **

Harry's arrival at the Gadvena Enclave was anything but graceful. His knees were weaker than Jell-O and folded straight under him. His stomach was one giant nauseous mess and his body felt rubbery and weak. Not to mention he suffered one horrible moment of seeing three Edina's. Thankfully—or not—it was all in his head.

"So here we are! Home sweet home young 'Ari."

"Lovely." He muttered, eyes tightly closed as he regained use of his body.

"Don't dawdle all day. Come along!"

"Coming, coming...where am I coming?"

"You see 'Ari things have…been somewhat difficult these last few days. Elder Amos would like to see you now." Harry didn't like how nervous Edina had suddenly become.

They walked down the same well-furnished hallway they had appeared before stopping at two large doors, wood paneling carved in intricate symbols too detailed for him to quickly understand. Not that Edina gave him much chance. She never hesitated as she entered what was a magnificent study, the smell of books and wood scenting the air.

"It has been far too long since last we met child." Was the smooth greeting of the ageless vampire seated behind a large desk, a glass of golden liquid held idly between suspiciously clawed fingers.

"Amos." Harry breathed out. He didn't know why but just seeing the Vampire Elder managed to ease an ache he hadn't been aware he'd been holding till now.

"Sit child and join me for a drink."

"What will we toast to?" Harry gamely agreed, one hand already reaching out to take possession of a golden glass.

"To survival."

"To survival." Harry intoned. The liquid was achingly sour with a bitterly sweet. It burned his throat and made his eyes water. Not surprisingly Harry felt it prudent not to ask what the drink was.

"How have you been?"

Amos sighed. "Like the bloody Hell Gates opened and made the world swallow its brand of insanity."

"How have _you_ been?" Vampire and Mortal shared an unreadable glance. Despite having a difference of age that spanned centuries, backgrounds that were wildly different, and morals that were questionable under most circumstances both men recognized in each other qualities that had always made them walk solitary paths. In spite of connections, friends, and obligations both had claimed and maybe because of them they were more often than naught inclined to withdraw a part of themselves too deep for most to even fathom.

"These days are dark when I must choose between life and death for _my_ children. Child…this is Gadvena, the Fortress that has never fallen, and everyday my children retreat more and more. Wizards of all creeds have turned against us. Where once they shied now they actively seek every trace of us. Those of the Light creed implore us to act and then blame us when we do not act single-mindedly. Those that bow before the Dark Lord hound our doors with promises of reckless days. And those that do not want our help look for our end. I've read the reports—I have seen as both my bloodkin and the werewolves have come under fire. If things do not change this might very well be Caliga's last enclave in Britain. I dread knowing how many children of mine have turned from me and how many I'll never see walk this earth. Even without your Dark Lord I suspect your Ministry will not stand for much longer if they continue breeding their brand of idiocy.

"My people grow restless and it won't be long before I can no longer stay my hand. We are faster, stronger than wizards and for now my bloodkin follow my law and stay away from wizards but the longer they pursue us the harder it is not to retaliate. For now the other Clans in Britain have followed my lead—wizarding wars are rarely profitable to us. But our laws are older and when my bloodkin can no longer turn away our strike will be harsh. You understand…I cannot afford to let the Ministry's bigoted propaganda continue without a response and hope to keep my place secure. That is a lesson you must deal with as well—the masses do not accept idle power.

"Tell me child, what have you done? What power has been yours and willing wielded? I know some of my brethren hope you to be the figurehead that will rally behind him the forces to break the Headmaster and the Dark Lord. Some hope you'll take their place and others hope you don't survive either of them. I've given you my support and encouraged the other Clans not to involve themselves with the wizards but now I need to know how far you will go to bring about your ambitions? The Ministry Wizards and their battling factions are moving against my kind and by doing so they incite my kin's wrath. Where will you stand?"

It was everything Harry had wanted and something he scarcely knew how to deal with. It was easy to react, to refine someone else's purpose, and let the world pass by. But he was being asked to finally stand where he would; asked to finally say what he meant to do.

And for someone who had made it an art form to hide all that he was, knowing what he wanted was something even he didn't understand. Instead of answering, for he truly didn't know how he would answer, he went down another avenue of thought.

"You understand what my mother and godfather carried? Someone told me I carry their Gift though weak it may be and because of that I know—I can feel certain events building. Wherever things are going will be decided during the Summer Moons. I want to tell you what I plan and what I want but…frankly I very much doubt it will be up to me to decide. My concern is and will remain survival. Strangely enough I find my survival sensitive to events that happened nearly a millennia ago. I don't know why, I scarcely understand at all but I know I need help from the Keeper—renowned Historian much vaunted by truthful sources."

"She is not one to indulge in simple curiosities." Amos drawled softly, curious golden eyes patiently listening. He would listen to all he was told and if Harry couldn't answer then he knew not to ask. Silence was more telling than words in many cases.

"And I will do all I can to convince her but I can't if I never have the chance to speak with her." Harry paused, emerald eyes considering the immortal before him. "And in the end it's my fate that will determine the final battle in this convoluted war."

"You expect much from me child," the immortal reprimanded. "Yet much is expected from you. I will do what I can but I must warn you—beware the folly of becoming an idol, for in the end all idols fall."

Harry was silent as he left the vampire to his duties. He couldn't make Amos' warning any less than it was by filling the air with pleasantries. The more he made promises the higher his potential for failure rose.

Times like he had to wonder if he had commitment issues.

**S**

"You weren't seriously going to spend all your time brooding here?" The voice was airy, chiding, and quite familiar. Harry looked up from the letter he had been writing to raise one nonplussed eyebrow at Edina. For her part Edina hovered in the entrance of the suite allocated to him for however long his stay would be.

The vampire Edina did not appreciate his silence. "You know what mate? For all six hours that I've known you I think I've come to suspect you spend an awful amount of time being Mr. Angst-ridden-tortured-soul. Don't you ever have fun? Just go down to a pub and get wasted three ways from a Cerberus? Keep this up and you'll be an incredibly dull fellow with an even duller life."

Harry wasn't sure whether to smile feebly or frown severely. The older he got the less happy he seemed. It sounded all together possible he would become one of those severe, stoic men he himself had goggled at when he had been a child. Back then he had thought those men were incredibly sad and far too scary for him to ever dare approach.

"What…do you suggest then?" Harry finally said giving a use to his gapping mouth.

He wasn't exactly comforted by Edina's wicked smile. Mischief bloomed in dark golden eyes and pale lips showed far too many teeth.

"Well just have some fun."

Regretting it or not Harry had the distinct feeling he wouldn't forget the night to come.

**S**

Edina and her kind held a long-standing aversion to wizarding entertainment. It just didn't pay off to attend the same thing as a few thousand wizards that understood the basis of what they were, held a deep-rooted phobia, and had the means to kill them. Plus Muggles as a rule were more likely to dismiss a sore neck or wrist. They'd actually prefer to pretend everything was normal if given a choice. Besides a large amount of wizarding entertainment was…rather mundane.

Harry had precious little exposure to music of any kind. The Wizard clubs down Dulcis Alley might have held some curiosity for the young wizard but there simply wasn't time for him to explore them. Clubs weren't useful for anything besides passing a good time.

By contrast Edina, a fledging at over three decades, had dedicated a good amount of that time to exploring life's pleasures.

Live concerts might not have the clearest music but when the ground vibrated, the masses cheered, wildness rose, one could easily forget who they where in the mesh of bodies. There was a magic in the air that had nothing to do with being a wizard and everything to do with being young and carefree. Amidst the crush of bodies one of the vampires in their little group handed Harry a little pill. He wasn't ignorant enough not to recognize it for what it was. So what if it made his heart pump too fast and his palms sweat? So what if his intelligence took a nosedive? If only for a night he didn't want to be himself.

Harry wasn't certain what band he was hearing but he did know he loved it. Loved the beat and the harmony and the rising voices. Loved the total surrender lyrics spoke of; the europia that sprang from rolling heads, stamping feet, winding arms, swinging hips…

Harry could forget he was Harry Potter and that in the end Harry Potter had to die for his people.

Maybe Edina wasn't as scatterbrained as she portrayed. After all she understood that sometimes when the world shoved its ugly mug at you, all you could do was shove right back and laugh.

**S**

"So this is he." The Keeper commented idly. "The mortal that seeks the tales of these walls."

Harry stiffened under her scrutiny but otherwise made no motion to speak. Warily his eyes tracked the immortal. As of yet he didn't know how to best approach the vampire.

He needed answers too much to screw-up now.

"Keeper Veranyce…I ask for your wisdom, for the knowledge you tend so that the history you keep need not be repeated." Harry dutifully intoned, faithfully repeating ritual words.

"Well said." Keeper Veranyce smiled. Gesturing she raised her hands to encompass the impossibly high walls, a forgotten language etched in the polished surface. "These walls contain millennias of history, words written down by my predecessors so that their children and my children would remember times when men knew only darkness, when from our brethren there rose kings, and when nations fell to there own weakness.

"I knelt at the feet of my predecessor and I rose in his wake. Dusk upon dusk the Keeper has stood within these catacombs."

Emerald eyes tracked the room, noting everything from the glowing mage lights to the great reflection pools spaced in a wide pentagon.

"Must be bloody lonely." Harry's voice echoed in the stonewalls. Ducking his head he cursed his inner-Ron's loose mouth. "No disrespect meant."

Pale-gold eyes that had held vague boredom as they resisted a long-practiced speech crinkled in amusement.

"No need child." The vampire-Keeper slowly walked down from the dais she had stood upon since Harry entered the catacombs. Her dark red ceremonial robes trailed behind her; the exaggerated headdress she wore twinkled from beneath dozens of mage-lights, their blue-white light giving the Keeper a slivery glow.

"History is an incredibly detailed and complex tapestry, every single thread means lives and deaths, choices and paths…not many can understand that or even appreciate the work done in these catacombs." A tiny smile on her pale lips invited him to share her humor. "But I enjoy the weight of time found here…and yes, it is incredibly lonely at times."

"Not to mention frustrating I would think…to keep what cannot be shared." Harry added, his eyes falling away from her own as he studied the shifting shadows on the walls. With a start he realized the shadows themselves weren't changing as a result of the light but the writing beneath it was constantly in motion.

"I would not stare too deeply at the walls…some find it rather disconcerting." The Keeper said, rich amusement coloring her voice. "But let us not forget why you have come here, Harry, son of James, son of Lily. Few will ever have the right to descent to the catacombs but despite that you have been granted access, Harry, Amos' Chosen, Favored of the Bloodkin…such a fascination we seem to have with you, mortal. No matter, ask what you will… it is all here."

A snow-white hand raised to touch the fluid walls. Pale gold eyes remained impassive as her hand descended to touch the walls. Almost as if a shockwave had been released a pulse of light traveled throughout the walls. The walls hummed and eyes of the lightest yellow darkened till they were flat gray.

"I am Veranyse, sired childe of Anoc of the line of Amos Ferox Caliga, Mistress of the Illuria Chronicles, Keeper of the Vampyre Legends and the tales of the Age of Man." she intoned, face stoic and eyes intent on the Child of Man. "And what Harri, son of James, son of Lily, will you ask of the Keeper?"

"For a tale lost to Man." The Child of Man answered deceptively.

"By the favor of my Lord, the Chronicles of Illuria the Night-born are opened to you. Ask what you will but I caution you...not everything I guard should be disturbed." said the Keeper of the Vampires.

"Then I ask...I ask for the true tale of the last days of the people of Rowsgarth Tower and the fate of those that brought them their end."

The Keeper remained impassive. Cool eyes tracked the Child of Man up and down. So impossibly young, she thought, to ask such damned questions. But her duty was not to guide those that sought her knowledge, rather it was within her that the true history of the Age was kept, unaltered by the victors, unblemished by time.

"I have warned you Child of Man but if you will I bid you to listen to the true history, as told by Ammonet-a-sal, daughter of Azar the Mad, raised in the year 1089 A.C. by the Neocrammer Kammeq."

With a start Harry realized the Keepers' eyes had dilated almost completely and her movements became trance-like.

And in the end Harry would learn the truth behind all the dreams that plagued him.

"From her grave Ammonet-a-Sal, daughter of Azar was raised on suspicion born of the Vampire Elder Hu'rean Idehlxe's investigations. This is the tale taken from the restless spirit of Ammonet-a-Sal, damned for time unknown.

"In the sixth year of the Lady Ehferahl, the Daughter of Prince of Rowsgath traveled from the land of her people and in her travels she met a great and powerful Lord, one of the Gift-born given to the Wizards so they may unite after centuries of isolation. And a son was born to them but she would not give the child the Lord's name less they be united in the ways of her people. So in the ninth year of Lady Ehferahl, the Daughter of the Prince of Rowsgath and the Lord were united under one house. But the people of Rowsgath were jealous of their ways, lax to see the daughter of their Prince be given to a stranger and in his way the Lord was proud and stubborn, unwilling to bend before the Father of his Wife. So in the years that followed discord grew daily, insult piled upon insult till the people and Lord grew divided.

"And it came to be that when a great friend of the Lord called for a gathering the Lord was all too willing to leave the House of his Wife, if only for a time. His friend gave great comfort and much merriment and perhaps the Lord strayed too long and too far. He returned to the people of Rowsgarth with an easy heart but they did not return such a greeting. In the House of his Wife he found only grief and despair, a forgotten hearth no longer kept by the Daughter of the Prince. And it was then that he learned of the sickness that swept by like a swift hunter. It took his son and daughters born to the House of Rowsgath to the land of Deh'rea, Goddess of Death. It took his servants and his herds, none save his wife would live to welcome him home and for her part madness would beacon. In his grief and his rage the Lord swore the Heavens themselves would stand against the Prince and his people. That very night he fled Rowsgath, leaving behind his mad wife and the ghosts of all that she once had.

"His friend, not knowing what the Lord harbored, gave rise to an idea to unite the scattered enclaves of the wizards. His fellow-Lord reasoned it would not be the Elders that could learn to live beyond their private enclaves but the younglings that could be taught of their distant cousins. For this plan to live they would have to find a land where the ley lines were strong enough to draw forth the protections to hide the young wizards. And the Sly Lord knew of one such place that already contained a structure able to support a community.

"So it came to be that the sly Lord led an army to the house of the Father of his Wife and knowing no peace they warred against the people of Rowsgarth. Showing no mercy they culled the sons and daughters of Rowsgath till the Prince faced the Husband of his Daughter as the last of his people. He knew his House would know no victory and before another sun rose his House would join the ashes of the earth. Fleeing the Lord he took his Daughter to the Hall of Rowsgath and using their blood he invoked the gods-that-must-not-be-named to grant him vengeance. Sealing the bargain with his life and soul his last act of magic was made so those that claimed his House as their own would suffer for all the years the blood of his enemies resided within a living vessel.

"The sly Lord in his arrogance and pride dismissed the Prince's warning as the words of a man who had lost all that he held dear. So the Lord took his Mad Wife and together with the other Gift-born, a Lord and two Ladies marked with a destiny to unite the enclaves founded Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"But the Curse slumbered in the veins of the daughters and sons of the Lords and Ladies. but having fathered two sons and two daughters of his own the sly Lord thought he had escaped destiny. But the land remembered the bloody deeds of the years past and in the third year of Lady Ga'kereme the sly Lord buried the last of his living children, his second eldest son Azar who fell to Madness. The words of the Prince lived on in the sly Lord's mind and knowing fear he built his own Hall to guard the Hall of Rowsgarth. In the sixth year of Lady Ga'kereme the sly Lord left the school for the last time, having failed to persuade his fellow Lord and Ladies to close down the school. He left the School a year till the day from which his only granddaughter, Ammonet-a-Sal, was buried in the grounds of the school.

"Taking with him his Mad Wife he lived only long enough to bring forth his son to the land of his fathers, the place he believed would protect his son from Rowsgarth's curse. And so the sly Lord, Gift-born with so much to offer the world, died lost in the land of his fathers, his living son knowing only hate and fear, and his dead children bearing his scattered name. As known by Ammonet-a-Sal, daughter of Azar-a-Sal, son of the Lord, Salazar Slytherin. Whose destiny it was to unite the Wizarding-kind and whose Blood would break that unity."

Harry's mouth spoke before his brain could catch up but once vocalizing his frame of mind he couldn't exactly disagree

'"Shit." he said.

Slowly the gray retreated from her eyes till dark amber glowed once more. Quietly she waited till she regained her bearings, starring at him all the meanwhile. Her open gaze was cruel in its honesty.

"Everything you've ever wanted to know and all you to do was ask." She added softly, shifting walls spinning behind her.

**S**

Gadvena had one of the most impressive libraries Harry had ever seen. And so what if he decided to bury himself in it for the next decade? Could anyone really blame him?

Here he was: a regular ol' bloke that was having a few strange dreams about some onyx-eyed girl. Trusting his instincts he determined that the dreams were more than dreams and bore investigation.

It was like any other mystery he'd ever stumbled over. Except this time he was at it alone and he was the only one with most if not all the clues. It might have required more legwork than his usual mysteries but in its defense this one was a real dozy.

It ended like this he knew. What should have been the most powerful wizards in each of their generation were doomed to be locked in a futile struggle. It was their fate it seemed to bury their family and lose all that they were. The Dumbledore's were virtually all dead as were the Riddles; the Potters were dead and gone as well. Except for his brother Albus had buried the last of his family during the last Wizarding War, Tom Riddle had killed _his_ family, and Harry's family had been murdered. There were plenty of people who would be their friends except each man's well-bred paranoia severely hampered those relationships. Albus had plenty of people that would move heaven and hell for him but none whom he could ever fully confide in. He _did_ spent over a decade guarding a prophecy that any man would have been tempted to share if only to share the burden. Voldemort had no equals much less friends within his ranks. As for Harry, he had to wonder how many of his friends would call themselves that if they knew everything he did and didn't do. Of all of them Ron and Ginny were possibly the only ones that knew the most and those two were locked away at Hogwarts while he roamed the countryside.

All that struggle and strife and death and…in the end what was it worth? They were cursed throughout time. And why? Because their ancestors were too foolish to look past their errors.

And all of the sudden he was so…_so_ angry. He didn't like most wizards to begin with. Why should he have to suffer for them? Gods help him his life would not be made a mockery because of the blunders of fools. He was more than a lamb led to the slaughter, more than a blind child placed upon an alter. And he would be more than that. By Merlin he would not let his end come neither quietly nor quickly.

Harry would tear those bastards apart.

**S**

Gadvena was busy with the many feet of vampires but whether it was Harry's self-imposed solitude or the vampires' reticence the two remained isolated from each other. Edina and Amos being the only vampires Harry had any extensive contact with meant he had a lot of time by himself. Amos was gone more often than not and always seemed trailed by two or three attendants (all of which seemed to talk at the same time). Edina despite appearing to be the pampered childe of a vampire was in fact a spymasters' apprentice.

So Harry spent a majority of his time buried in books no mortal hands had touched in centuries. Books that documented creatures that no longer existed, beings that were no longer remembered, gods that no one prayed to anymore. And most interesting of it all were magiks forgotten

With an intensity he had rarely given to any living thing he ruthlessly searched for a means to cheat death without cheating. Not only that, he had to level the playing field between Voldemort, Albus, and himself. Harry didn't know if he could survive a second battle with those two, not if it took every trick he had to survive their first. They had decades of experience, years to train their instincts, and he had none of that. There was little he could hope to do to even the difference and it was an exercise in futility to try.

If he couldn't change himself he had to change them. Now was the height of Albus' power and in turn Voldemort's base was stronger than it had ever been. If Albus' people were so eager to die for him Harry had no qualm of using them when he faced Voldemort. _He _had never asked anyone to die for him but neither would he listen to anyone that asked _him_ to die for _them_. No matter what any bloody prophecy or curse said.

"…_in the twelfth year of the Light Lord Mearet did he seek death's secret. Oath sworn to guide the wizards' enclave for as long as he could he led the Second Silent War against Dark practitioners and their magiks. Encouraging an ideology of purity he would forever seek purity within his own being to the point of banning all that would swear to the Darker gods. Enamored by the soul's immortality Lord Mearet sought to preserve himself as Light's beacon. In the fourteenth year of Lord Mearet reign did he at last purge all of him touched by the Black Arts. Only by invoking death's embrace did he sear his spirit, calling forth oblivion to take what he did not hold. And in doing so did he create an in-balance none of his men could rectify. For without Dark to balance Light did he burn bright and burned from this plane. Possessing power never before seen he became a god among men and was thus struck down for claiming such a title. In agony, seared from his very soul did he expire…"_

Harry slammed the tome shut, dully banging his head against the cover. While interesting Harry had yet to see any relevance hidden among the tales recorded of the various Dark and Light Lords that had reined since the wizarding enclave was cemented.

It was probably a good idea he had no one to talk to less he snap at them. He wasn't in a good mood—hadn't been in one since he talked to the Keeper. Had he been in Hogwarts he had no doubt he would have knocked about the first person to look at him funny. Unfortunately for him it wasn't good policy to pick on one's hosts.

"Master 'Ari."

A woman—librarian by the looks of it—stood a respectful distance away. Dressed in the pale cream robes of the staff of Gadvena she wore the sash that signified a relatively low position.

"Lord Caliga requested your presence in his office."

It didn't take long for him to reach the same elegant office as before. It helped that one look at his thunderous expression and the smell of agitated magic clung to him like heavy perfume. Vampires don't live long by being slow.

Even the guard that had been shadowing him for all his stay seemed to think it prudent to maintain a large distance between them. Not that Harry had anything against his minder, mainly because he was charged with guarding him from disgruntled vampires as much as he needed to make sure Harry didn't wander off into places unknown.

Amos wasn't behind his desk when Harry entered. Harry thought he looked rather dramatic standing next to the flickering hearth. Cradled loosely in one jeweled hand was an empty glass. Amos noticed Harry's interest immediately.

Giving him a small smirk he said, "It's too serious for alcohol. It was just some pepper-up potion and blood—I practically live off it now a days."

"What happened?"

"Harry…" Amos trailed off.

Harry stiffened at the use of his name. What is really paranoia that made him think nothing good was coming?

"What's happened?"

"Britain is burning." He said with a strange melancholy. Amos was old enough that it wouldn't be the first time he said those words. "One of my men informed me that your Dark Lord has ordered a strike on a great deal of families. Families that have failed to give him his due apparently. How the attack was kept secret remains a mystery but in a few hours his followers will be in place to orchestrate a massive attack. The plans must have been made months ago to take into account all the wards that must be in place."

The name of every family he knew raced through his head. Old Mrs. Longbottom would be at home, proud Mr. Montague would be having supper with his wife, strange Mrs. Figg and her cats, odd Mr. Lovegood and his Quibbler, and so many more.

People who would die to prove a man's point, men and women that would fall so the world would know that the Dark Lord could strike anywhere at anytime. So in the end their death would mark them as a statistic used to prove a man's power. Even in this Harry knew Voldemort in a way few would ever would. A simultaneous strike would destabilize anyone that stood against him. What were promises of protection worth when they couldn't be delivered upon?

"Thank you for telling me…what of your people?"

Amos stared deeply into the fire, his face inscrutable. "My children have left London days ago. We will not step into this Wizard War…during the last wizarding war the Statue of Secrecy came very close to being broken. Such destruction…That remains the greatest danger. Should Muggles become involved there will be little we can do to hide us. If Wizards are revealed it won't be long before we are brought to their attention. And it should not be forgotten my bloodkin will not let their power sleep forever. There will come a time when the time of hiding will be over...now is not the time."

Harry left Amos' study with a sick feeling in his stomach. The world was going to hell. It didn't matter who he told—there wouldn't be enough time to track down every potential target. Amos had assured him the Ministry's spy within the Dark ranks had already relayed the news.

Back in the library Harry brooded. Or would have given enough time. A vampire sat stiffly next to his abandoned book. Dressed in a simple pale linen she nervously played with a long braid of ash-white hair. Familiar pale-gold eyes studied his entrance.

Harry glanced at her curiously but said nothing till he sat down.

"Good evening Keeper Veranyce."

She licked her lips, betraying just how nervous she was. "How—How have you been?"

Harry shrugged, seeing no harm in talking. "A little frustrated but otherwise as good as can be expected."

Pale hands stroked his abandoned tome. "I see you been reading _Chronicles of the Meahetten Age._ That Age is most noted by the Wizard Mearet who split his life-source so that he could embody the Light. It didn't work of course—the natural balance can't stand to be upset for long—but when he blew he took the Isle of Evar with him, the largest wizarding enclave of its time."

Harry studied her a bit startled. Gone were the mysterious Keeper and her crimson ceremonial robes. Before him sat a nervous young woman, someone that reminded him strangely of a mix between Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.

"I hadn't gotten that far yet."

"Oh." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I don't leave the catacombs very often. As a fledging my training took much of my time. The last Keeper past on only recently. I—I don't know that many people here."

Harry said nothing in response to the lovely, awkward woman.

"Neither do I." Harry finally said. "So…you don't teach anyone else?"

Veranyce shrugged. "Not everyone can become a Keeper and supposedly it is unseemly for the Keeper to teach the common folk. The last Keeper was Roman—he was really into the whole decadence lifestyle…I heard about this so called 'Dark Strike'. I'm one of my lord's councilors—the Keeper always is. There's little you can do to help anyone being attacked tonight if you haven't already cast a ward or link to tie them to you."

"And if I had one?"

Veranyce blinked. "Well…all links can be manipulated no matter their original purpose so long as you have the power."

_All links._

The air shimmered in front of them. Ignoring Veranyce's startled gasp Harry focused on calling his Messenger bird, the ice phoenix look-a-like born of magic.

"It's you…" She whispered. "Morrigan."

The _nuntius_ bird shimmered into view, not quite solid but still strong with the magic of its creator. Trusting his instincts Harry struck his hand in the charmed bird's chest, letting the magic lap gently at his hand. He could sense it; the magical connection he had with all of his birds. All of them created to heed his call and thus connected to him, no matter how faintly.

And then he felt it.

He was sitting besides Veranyce/ he was the guard of a cheerful wizard/ he was watching a babe peer at him curiously/ he was drifting in the air/ he was patiently listening to a vampire chatter to him. He was all that and more. His conscious was pulled in dozens of directions, his magic opening a channel to his messengers/ children/ servants.

"For God's sake!" he gasped hollowly. His heart burned and he didn't quite understand why.

He could feel the faint presence of everyone that had accepted his terms as Morrigan. Everyone that had been trapped between a Dark Lord and a Light Lord and had only seen a virtual unknown as a salvation. And he marveled at their faith.

All he knew was he'd asked for help and against all odds some had given it. They'd allowed themselves to be entered into magical contracts built on honesty and he'd always strived never to give them false pretenses. He gave all that he promised.

And he'd offered aid should their need ever be there. He didn't care if this was impulsive; he would do it anyway.

Because he didn't know who would die that night

He was connected to them. The _nuntius_ being the magical representation of their union. In a way he was with them.

But not even he knew what they could face that night and while the _nuntius_ would be a Guardian he did not doubt that the Dark Strike would overwhelm them. Despite their oddness they simply weren't strong enough, fast enough to take more than one opponent.

Looking at Veranyce's face he could see the sad regret lingering in her eyes. She knew what he was doing. Her eyes flickered with the pity she would deign to bestow on the mortal boy that could do nothing to save those that would follow his wishes in this war.

And to her surprise he snarled at her pity.

"There is nothing you can do child." She said matter of factly and somewhat condescendingly. He didn't even notice her refer to him as a child—it was a given with anyone that lived a few centuries.

Harry tilted his face toward the side, emerald eyes unknowingly darkening with tendrils of power he was gathering.

"You cannot save them all." Veranyce finally pleaded, pale-yellow eyes brightening in the presence of potent magic. She shifted uneasily as magic ghosted along her skin. She could literally _feel_ it all around.

Harry ignored her. He let his mind fall back into himself, let his mage-sight focus upon the ties that bound him. Because he was a magical being his every deed, word, feeling, and emotion could serve to bind him. In the same way magical oaths could bind him he could establish magical connections if his will was strong enough. Generally they would serve no purpose and would hardly ever be called upon.

But tonight Harry needed them and so he fell into himself and glimpsed a part of his being few would ever see. Ghostlike links connected him to friends, promises, hates, and ideals. Wild and uncontrolled, the birthplace of accidental magic, he searched for the bonds of the _nuntius_. He could feel them within himself, shinning and eager, created in the image of Hedwig. They would serve and protect till they were no longer needed.

Master/Father/Creator, whispered dozens of chiming voices, raw and musical with untainted power. 

_Protect the Wizards. Fight in my name,_ his mind disjointedly said. In the sea of power words did not exist and from deep within himself Harry hoped they understood what he wanted.

_I am your Source/ I am the river/ I am the beginning_, magic whispered in it's own language, incomprehensible to all living beings but known to all.

Half-lidded eyes stared at Veranyce in a distant world.

"T-Thr …"His sluggish tongue tried to say.

She stared back at him comically wide-eyed and not without a hint of fear in her eyes. That was the last thing Harry saw because at that moment the levies of his magic broke under the call of his Messenger/Guardians/Children. The _nuntius_ suckled at his power like young babes, drawing strength not natural to them but needed all the same.

In dozens of different places _nuntius _birds flared into existence. They shrieked—earning more than a few startled cries—as they took to the air. Opening their beaks they cried, their call like thunder born. All around them the heavy smell of magic rose—something like ozone and the sea and the earth, wild and unknown.

Outside around a dozen homes startled black-robed wizards stared incomprehensibly as a beam of light was fired from the homes they watched. Like a firecracker exploding it lit the night sky as it broke apart into many spikes of light and abruptly fell to earth completely surrounding whatever home they watched. Striking the earth with a dull thumb they faded into night only to explode into a pale dome-shaped shield, wicked green lightning crackling across the pale surface.

"Bloody hell…" swore one watching Death Eater. The Death Eater nervously gripped his wand before cautiously firing an identification charm. Generally the charm produced no reaction since its purpose was only to bounce from whatever surface it struck—magical or otherwise.

He wasn't prepared for the shield's reaction.

The pale dome flared once before bolts of green lighting sprung from all corners and converged on the point at which the charm had struck. Ignoring the laws of magic the bolts of energy crackled as they left the dome and struck the unsuspecting wizard. Briefly the night sky flared as brightly as the sun, clearly showing the outlines of five startled figures.

The curtains fluttered in a distant window as the house's occupants peered outside just in time to see the light show.

"You bloody idiot!" swore another Death Eater, the leader of the little expedition and consequently the one that would have to face the Dark Lord if the mission failed.

"We've been spotted," squeaked one watching cloaked figure.

The leader of the group turned to another figure, one that had so far been hiding behind a particular large tree. Painfully hauling the figure near the pale dome the leader hissed at the other figure. "You're the bloody Cursebreaker. Why didn't we know about this shield?"

"But-But there isn't supposed to be another one!" whimpered the Cursebreaker. "I-I t-took all the wards down! I swear to Merlin they were down!"

"Then what the bloody hell to you call that!"

"I've nev-never seen t-this before. It's n-not part of the wards Lestrange gave me to break down."

"Can you bring it down?"

"I-I don't even know what it is!" The Cursebreaker exclaimed with incredulity.

"You have till our Master sends his call. Merlin help you if you can't."

The pale dome seemed to brighten as if sensing the challenge.

**S**

Many miles away Harry breathed deeply as Veranyce silently held him. His limp body offering no resistance as his conscious flickered from channel to channel within him.

He felt it then. One of his shields broke. Faintly he felt/saw/knew a large number of wizards battled before his _nuntius_ charm/shield shattered. But all around, in isolated homes and busy cities, spells struck him, his dome-shield, and…they held.

With a gasp his physical body jerked away. He could feel sluggishness in his bones born of something like a magical head rush. It took him a moment to separate himself from the currents that still flowed from within him. He instinctively knew without knowing that he could hold the other shields.

"Are you alright?" Veranyce said uncertainly, her arms nearly numb with the magical discharge that had settled all around him.

"I'm fi-fine. A little lightheaded…but…it'll…pass."

"Oh…err…it looked awfully frightening, _felt_ awfully frightening."

"I have to go to…" Harry tried to say, his gaze still unfocused.

"Are you sure you should be moving?"

Slowly his strength was returning, the wild rush of magic lapping at his senses. He now understood how some wizards could get lost doing magic. It certainly was addictive to feel the power and energy effulge him.

"Can you take me to the exit. I…have to go."

She looked as if she wanted to protest but in the end she said nothing.

"And Veranyce? Thanks."

Veranyce bowed her head in response. Glancing at her once he bowed in turn and apparated away.

And apparated into a battlefield. The swirling robes of Ministry Aurors were lit up as they blocked and cast spells from dark robed wizards.

Still harboring the anger of weeks Harry took this opportunity to release some tension. Drawing an ash wand into the battling crowd Harry fired off a blasting curse. Tucking as a wicked blue curse sailed over his head Harry fired a _Lumos_ into the face of one Death Eater before shooting a _Reductor _as the Death Eater tried to clear his sight.

Casting a _Wingardium Leviosa_ at the back of two Death Eater he slammed them into a building wall before flinging them at another masked figure.

From within the crowd the face of an Order member flashed once or twice before disappearing in the mayhem. And before he knew it he was surrounded by battling wizards. Too late he realized how vulnerable his position was. Pushing back he blasted left and right as he tried to retreat from the press of bodies. A blind elbow slammed into his side but in a second it was gone as the battling wizard sunk in the mesh. Startled Aurors glanced at him as he passed but quickly ignored him since he bore no mask and was currently flinging nasty spells at Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters were wining he realized as he conjured a thorn whip to wrap around a particularly stubborn Death Eater. His crafty opponent retaliated with an acid curse. Quickly banishing the whip Harry flung another _Lumos_ spell before summoning fallen rubble and slamming them against his opponent. The Death Eater conjured a shield but wasn't fast enough to stop the Black Flame that sprung from the ground and wrapped around his wrists. Wrenching the wand from his sweaty palm Harry cast a blasting curse head on. Under the anti-Apparation and anti-portkey shield that Death Eater would most likely die, never regaining the strength to drag his body from the battlefield. But in the meantime the Death Eater had the distinct agony of trying to hold his guts within his body as the long diagonal slash across his chest slowly drained his life-blood. Harry scanned the field from his position, not quite daring to lose himself in the mesh of bodies.

And that was when some Death Eater activated the second stage of their plan. A nameless Death Eater proceeded to fling a fire curse at a disillusioned barrel. Harry was nearly knocked off his feet in the resulting blast. Nearby buildings shook and the closest ones actually collapsed. More than one wizard fell to the ground as the earth trembled.

Turning his face Harry tried to protect his eyes from flying debris and thick smoke.

His back burned as pieces of rubble struck him. Pain curled around his waist and up his shoulders. Another blast pushed him forward, his knees and forearms scraping the ground. Soot covered and extremely undignified Harry rolled to find more cover, mindful of his stinging back.

The battle was moving away, the blasts becoming farther and farther away. In the distance gray-robed figures and nameless wizards fought against moon-faced masked figures. Shouts and curses joined the dark revelry. Malicious spells lit the night sky unnaturally and every once in a while ominous green light streaked the air, a promise of death hidden in the emerald depth.

Harry took one shuddering breath before crouching against half-blown stonewalls. He would be dammed before he retreated after his first wound. Glancing back at the battle scene he cursed. The Aurors and Order members were simply no match against the Dark forces.

Peaking toward the sound of hoarse cries Harry tried to track the figures through the rising smoke and dust clouds. He _couldn't _fight next to them. He was powerful enough to bludger all of them to death but that power was ineffective if he was surrounded by a whole row of wizards. Sure, he might incapacitate the wizards in his immediate surroundings but that wouldn't help against anyone that fired at him from outside his combat area.

He had to fight smart. What use was it being the Heir of so much convoluted magic if he couldn't even use it?

Mortar brick crumpled beneath his feet as Harry moved up to a better vantage point. Hidden among the shadows his figure melted against the ruins of a brick building. For a second a lull in the battle revealed faint whimpering behind him. He only had a moment to feel pity for whatever unlucky survivor trembled in the wreckage, waiting in the night for the monsters that invaded their home to finish what they started.

Two pale hands rose in the shadows, dirty and scraped. An ash wand trembled in one hand and a holly wand in the other.

This was _his_ power. His to wield; his to bear. His in all its glory and all its ruin.

Like the release of a vacuum, black fire swirled in around his ash wand, smoky tendrils lovingly wrapping around his wrist and trailing down his body.

Using his holly wand as a focus he called a different power, from the place that his Patronus Charm was born from. Light warmed under his call. From the hand that could not call a _Crucio_ upon a despised woman, from the hand that wielded light charms; that would never give birth to the Death Curse, he called a power so bright it hurt. So pure it knew no mercy, no stain.

He understood. A power the Light Lord Mearet tried to call without first finding a balance.

Sixteen years ago the Darkest Lord this century (possibly ever) fell before a child. That night Dark Magic ruled the air, claimed the night and all its inhabitants. And his mother, follower of the Light creed, invoked Dark sacrificial magic—one soul for another—a bargain with Death itself. Could anyone actually have believed it wouldn't have changed the child in anyway?

A child that would later be able to use the Patronus Charm at the young age of thirteen? Was he truly any better for not being able to perform the Crutacius Curse when he truly hated Bellatrix Lestrange? But in the end, no matter his personal feelings, Harry could _Avedra Kedavra_ till he was blue in the face and not so much as make anyone twitch.

His mother made him heir to Light magic, so pure that no one—not even he—could wield it without getting burned. And that is when he finally knew what weapon Voldemort would call upon to win. Why he was reborn more terrible than before, why his mastery of Black magic rose to new heights and in the few short years since his return managed to terrify a world into submission.

The skin gripping his holly wand turned sunburned red as misty white fog coalesced around his exposed fingers.

"_Akneran femr helisines…" _Harry chanted, meaningless words lost in his psyche meant to focus a magic he could scarcely control. And really, as far as he understood he was only the conductor.

Down bellow bodies twisted in and out of obscurity. Occasionally a familiar head would be illuminated by colorful spells.

Like an incoming fog white mist shot toward the combatants, the figures fighting in the outskirts completely unaware as misty snakes twisted around their ankles and fallen comrades.

A Healer fresh out of a St. Mungo's internship scrambled to keep a fallen Auror alive, heavy bleeding trickling from beneath hands that tried to keep the pressure constant. The Healer only had time to give the strange mist one wide-eyed glance before his patient started to convulse. The Flesh-Eating Curse, infamously known as a favorite for torture, was eating his patient right before him.

"Merlin take you…" The Healer cursed, eyes suspiciously glassy. The Auror would die right there, he knew. Laid out on the dirt floor, pained eyes fluttering in and out of conscious.

"What the hell…?"

White fog homed in on the fallen Auror. It burned his hands like too hot water. His nerve endings were on fire but he was a Healer first and foremost and he would not, could not take his hands away. The Auror convulsed as the white fog burned him as well. Trembling the Healer removed his hands from the cauterized flesh. And he had to blink dumbly as the sickly pale blue worms that marked the Flesh Eating Curse had literally been charred where they…crawled.

The fog was gone again, shooting through shadows and feet. The Auror's pulse was still too rapid and the Healer was sure shock had already set in.

He had no time for strange magic. Not when a man's life was still in his hands.

Had he looked up he might have seen the strangest thing that night. Like a growing twister the white mist was congregating dead center between all the fighters. The nearest wizards stepped back uneasily but in the heat of the moment those fighting further away could not spare a glance.

Then it happened.

Like an exploding star thin wisps of blinding white magic shot forward, bouncing from wizard to wizard. They gave one startled scream or muffled whimper before they fell down like forgotten dolls. All around half-cast spells sizzled into mist.

Wicked burns glowed in exposed skin, the indiscriminate response to harmful magic. It spread with no regard, zapping Auror and Death Eater alike.

Above them Harry fed the magic and finally understood how something so pure and bright could never ever be truly good. It saw no gray areas, no reason; it knew only what was harmful and cared nothing for any of the people merely defending themselves. But because it was white magic at its finest it could never be used to kill.

Silence grew as one after another thump hit the ground. Releasing the white magic Harry felt his whole arm burn.

Like a resentful animal the white magic turned against him.

It would not be caged; would not suffer the judgment of a being made imperfect.

And he knew had he been anyone else the white magic would have turned against him, unwillingly fed by him till he was no more. Like an avenging warrior the Black Flame erupted wherever the white magic touched him. It burned the darkest it had ever, a complete absorption of all light. In less than a second Harry was consumed. Like a Guy Fakes bonfire he burned at the heart of black flames. Within seconds both magics retreated, sullen and resentful.

"Harry?"

He spun behind him. Illuminated from behind two figures stood on another roof.

"Harry!" Was the joyous cry. And Harry finally knew who it was.

"Remus." He answered warily.

"We've 'ave been lookin' for you." His companion added rather coldly with a trace of unease.

Carefully Remus took a few steps forward. "Come home Harry. There's no need to be alone. Come home with us."

"I've found my home and it isn't there."

"Please…" The last of the Marauders pleaded.

"We 'aven't time for this Lupin. We need to 'ather the Order—they 'ave been injured." His companion interrupted with annoyance. Even as they spoke heads stirred clumsily on the ground.

Remus only needed a moment to leap toward him and suddenly he stood in front of Harry, hands raised pleadingly.

"You don't have to run Harry. Trust in me, let me take you home." The werewolf's hands hovered just over his skin.

A slight whistling sound was the only warning they had as a spell blasted against the roof they stood upon. Debris scattered in the air as both Remus and Harry crouched low to the ground.

Remus' companion leapt to the ground. His wand flashed forward and a moment later a muffled cry echoed from the surrounding area as his spell hit home.

"Harry there isn't any time to argue. We miss you, we need to know you are safe."

"I'm safe enough." Harry muttered distractedly, eyes scanning the area around for enemies. Because of that he didn't even see Remus wrap his fingers around his wrist. Turning to the disgruntled werewolf Harry met the most serious face Remus Lupin had ever worn.

"I can't let you do that Harry. James would never forgive me if something happened to you."

Harry turned incredulous eyes toward his former Professor. "It is far too late for that."

"Lupin! 'urry up!"

"Please Harry. I'm sure Ron and Hermione and Ginny miss you terribly. Molly would love to have you home, she even set aside the twins' old room for you." All the while Remus inched forward.

"Lupin!"

"I'm afraid not." Harry said steadily, one wand rose against Remus. Wide-eyed he starred back almost as if he didn't quite believe Harry would do such a thing.

"You don't want to do this. We've enough enemies without turning on our friends. Just come home Harry."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Lupin!"

Then Remus was leaping toward him and his wand was firing. Werewolf strength was simply superior to his own and both were rolling against the roof shingles.

"God damnit Lupin!"

Werewolf and Boy-Who-Lived struggled on; his ash wand was yanked out of his grasp. A second later another sinewy arm dared to touch the holly wand. But such a creature Moony was, born of black magic, and such was the wand, a recent tool for white magic, that the werewolf could not bear to touch the wand.

"Bloody hell." Remus huffed, springing back as he had been literally burned. Remus Lupin was a tenacious man—he had to be to have been to complete his wizarding education despite suffering lycanthropy for most of his life. He leapt toward Harry again. Harry's empty hand was raised again, Black Fire curling back to life again. He had never seriously meant to hurt Remus but he was _not_ going back to Grimmauld Place if he could help it. So focused was he on Remus Harry never saw the other Order member fire at his unprotected back. Recent wounds flared once before his world turned black, his body slumping painfully on top of his injured hand.

"Oh hell…" Remus swore softly as he turned the closest thing he had to a nephew over. Fumbling at his waist for a pouch full of trinkets he quickly tied one around Harry's wrist. Tapping it once with his wand he linked it with the rest of the portkeys. Carefully tucking in Harry's fallen wand into his own belt he reluctantly moved on. They needed to retrieve the fallen Order members from the scene. Most Aurors and Healers would turn a blind eye to them but not even they could protect them when the officials came looking for them. Gravel scattered as Remus moved on. Looking back he couldn't help but think Harry looked so vulnerable, a forgotten toy of war.

**S**

Remus studied the sleeping boy. His hand reached out to smooth unruly black hair but at the last second he stopped. It seemed even in sleep he did not dare touch the child.

Beneath his hand a pale brow furrowed uneasily, eyes flickered beneath delicate blue-veined lids.

"Remus…" A voice sighed behind him. It was the middle of the night and their voice was throaty with sleep. "You should let the child sleep while he can."

He didn't turn to face Arthur but he did place his hand back in his lap. Grey-streaked hair shadowed amber eyes as he bowed his head.

"Arthur…you ever get the feeling that everything you've ever done or been has only let to failure? Or-or is it just me?"

Arthur was silent as he considered the question. Finally he moved his weary bones to sit next to Remus. Together both men studied the sleeping boy—a boy that looked all together too young to be anywhere but the in the bosom protection of a doting mother.

"We all have our moments." Arthur-father-of-Percy whispered. "We all wonder if everything we've done will change anything, if everything we've touched won't whiter…"

"But what happens if you look back and all you see is misery, unfortunate events, and tragedy? What if the only one left that you could possibly call family didn't trust you farther than he could throw you?"

"Oh Remus…you cant hold that against yourself. It was during a battle and instincts take hold of us before reason. We all knew Harry didn't want to be found—that we found him must have frightened him dreadfully. You know he had a falling out with Dumbledore and hasn't settled the matter in any way."

Remus gave the other man a sad smile. "But it isn't just that. Children are remarkable beings—they forgive you anything. You don't know that look on Harry's face when he found out I was one of his father's best friends. His face just lit up and you don't know what to do but you hope he never loses that brilliant smile. I've never seen him look that way except when Sirius told him he would take him in. Then I had to watch him lose that smile just a little more every year.

"I know what he thinks. I know he wonders why I could never talk about James and Sirius with him. I know he wonders why I never visited him those years before I taught DADA. I know he remembers my hands were the ones that stopped him from following Sirius into the Veil. I've failed him so many times, given less that I should have; never been there when he needed me. I held him hours after he came into this world but couldn't hold him when Quirrell faced him, wasn't there when the whole school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, and couldn't even tell him his Godfather was still alive or why Pettigrew was such a danger. But A-Arthur, he was so young, so small, so innocent…"

"You aren't the first to have done as you did. I've been a father for decades but I couldn't give one of my children the support they needed, couldn't understand what they needed from me, and couldn't accept what they needed. I've tried and I've failed and all I can do is hope that I'm strong enough to try again. I thought Percy too young to know what he wanted and I lost him."

Harry turned uneasily in his sleep, his face more relaxed and vulnerable than at any other time.

"I don't know if I can be family to Harry or even if he would accept me as such."

"But in the end isn't it up to Harry to decide that? I admit I don't know him as well as I used to but I remember he had a great capacity to forgive."

Remus gave a ragged sigh. "I've been silent too long. You don't understand…I never knew how to reach out to him. I treated him as a child when he was dealing with adult concerns and an adult when he needed to be a child. And he knows it—he isn't stupid and he sees far more than any of us ever gave him credit to."

"Then what can you do?" Arthur finally asked him.

"Nothing that he does not allow." Remus whispered weakly. To have it come to this, he thought ruefully. That James and Lily's son would have a reason to refuse what James had once called 'an honorary uncle'. To have that very boy _raise_ his wand against him.

"And can you give him the choice of knowing you or denying you? Are you strong enough to stand aside and let him reach out to you as he will?"

Remus was silent for a long time, almost long enough for Arthur to believe he wouldn't get an answer.

"I d-don't know."

"But what else can we do?" Arthur said half-heartily. "I wait everyday for an owl from Percy and I hope each time I send him an owl it doesn't come back unopened. We have broken promises to children under our care and we must face the damage."

"I don't know if I can. For Merlin's sake the last time I failed someone I considered family I fled for over a decade into the middle of nowhere."

"All you can do is try, Remus." Arthur swore knowingly. "I best get back to bed before Molly realizes I'm not there. Don't stay up all night Remus, Harry's going to need you alert when he wakes."

"Of course."

Alone again one of Remus hands fluttered near a lighting bolt scar. For a minute his hand inched ever so slowly to the pale brow but in the end he could not touch the sleeping child. He just didn't dare take such liberties. Letting his old bones creak he stood and softly left the room. It wouldn't do to wake Harry when he clearly needed all the sleep he could get.

Had he stayed a moment longer he would have witnessed Harry turn uneasily once more and mutter a serpentine hiss. Pale lids flutter and emerald eyes gleamed with something distant and terrifying. The world remained unawares as Harry muttered unintelligible hisses, the second end of a conversation with the Darkest Lord of the century.

**S**

_Harry sat on a high branch. From his spot he could see the spires of Rowsgath Tower stretching toward the sky. In his hand he played with an emerald-jeweled dagger. On his back the comforting weight of a ruby sword was strapped to his back._

_Besides him the red-haired onyx-eyed girl hummed tunelessly. Her meticulously clean white robe fluttered in a passing breeze._

"_They once called me Ammonet." She commented brightly without rhyme or reason._

_Harry glanced at her once before turning his gaze back at the building. Only this time the Tower had changed. The ground before him changed as tress fell back to allow a generous expanse of grassy courtyards. The Tower seemed to explode outward as well till it changed to resemble the current incarnation of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"_My father was Mad but they said it was over. They were wrong. My people are trapped in this place till the Curse runs its course." One pale hand stoked the dagger in Harry's grip. "You understand now, don't you?"_

**S**

Sean stood at the front of the valley entrance. Behind him his Clan curiously approached, all the belongings they could carry strapped to their back.

A forest of tall twisting trees stretched from end to end of the valley. In the distance hazes of fires exploded as firebirds danced about, their young, drabber offspring squawking in their wake. Every once in a while the roar of a long forgotten creature echoed; flutters of colorful birds springing upwards in protest.

"It's beautiful." Eneida whispered besides him, her five-year old son straddled on her waist.

In the distant the forgotten spirals of Tirgath Castle rose from the mountain fog.

"There it is." Sean pointed to his Clan. "Tirsgath Castle from whence legends say the Council of Ehre ruled. Home of the Leha're, masters of the Ram'ore Crystals."

"Our new home." Bast said quietly besides him. "What of the war?"

The silence stretched between them.

Sean glanced behind him, the streaming people that belonged to his Clan walked alongside members of other Clans that had chosen refuge.

"Let them deal with it." Sean called back. Nimbly he walked forward, his steps leading the largest gathering of werewolves in the European continent into a forgotten land.

"It's the wizard's war now."

_**TBC………..**_


	28. Dawn's Shadow

**Dawn's Shadow**

**S**

There is a point when prayers fall to the way-side, when all hopes of mercy and leniency are thrown aside. When one falls into such a primal state of _feeling_ that little of what they are in that particular moment can be called human. There is in fact very little to distinguish one from an animal seconds before the slaughter.

There are instincts, deep and rooted in every mind that call for one thing above all else. The one thing many that have knelt before a man made dark by birth and deeds have pressed their hearts near to.

_Survival._

And still that feeling of danger did not lesson as the guttural screams continued, made mad and wild having expelled every trace of humanity.

His Servants strained to turn away knowing they could not move. Lined near his throne were his faithful Inner Circle; their porcelain masks making them nothing but faceless ghosts and all the more menacing for the fact. And standing before him were his Generals and their subordinates. The leaders of the many cells that made the whole of his army. It wasn't often he Called so many at one time, not since his rebirth had they seen such a gathering. But it wasn't often that he felt his army needed a reminder of just how cruel Lord Voldemort could be.

And finally the mad screams died into senseless whimpering. Those that watched had no pity, for those that lived learned that foolishness had only one reward.

"This Strike was planned months in advance, researched and outlined till even the simplest fool knew their part…and yet, still there are those among you who failed even then…" The powerful man hissed. "Still…I do not forget those who serve faithfully. A new world is coming, its birthing pains lashing as it rises from the misguided ruin that shadows us even now. But not for long…The Ministry has fallen! Scattered they have fled, now is the time to move against our last obstacles and there is but one man who holds the banner against us now…Albus Dumbledore's time has ended."

And those who knelt before him were swept in the tide. The Ministry had fallen, burnt as a simultaneous strike against all those who opposed their Lord swept Great Britain. And though while it was true a strange magic had shielded many homes, the Aurors that had moved to confront the Dark Strike suffered a crippling blow.

The time had finally come.

Voldemort's army would finally face Albus Dumbledore.

**S**

"It's no wonder he hasn't woken up," The matronly woman clucked in sympathetic. "The boy is still suffering from magical exhaustion. I imagine he had been pushed even beyond his limit the night you found him. Whatever he was doing must have been great indeed, as it is there have been precious few that have exceeded the boy's magical reservoir."

"And what about his other injuries?"

"Various scraps and cuts, nothing too worrisome. It's his hand that mostly concerns me. What ever he was doing left a magical burn, it'll trouble him till it heals naturally—not something I can help with."

"But other than that, he's fine?"

"Yes." The woman finally sighed, "There really was no need to worry so much Mr. Lupin."

"Still…it's Harry…" Remus explained, not knowing how to explain duty and responsibility and guilt that bound him to a time gone.

"I understand; if you even knew half the scraps I had to heal on this boy…It was a wonder where he found the trouble he dragged into my infirmary." Madam Pomfrey finally said, quietly gathering her Nurse's kit. "Now, I understand there are a couple more patients of mine running about here? I didn't heal the lot of you to see you ruin my hard-work by working before any of you are quite ready."

"But I feel well enough." Remus protested sheepishly, an automatic smile reminding the older woman of a younger boy struggling out of bed after the full-moon to attend class.

"I'll see about that. I take it everyone should be gathering for supper downstairs? Good. If its one thing I've learned is that food is usually enough to leash most people down enough for me to examine them."

Hiding a grimace Remus opened the door and immediately winced as the sounds of wailing babies, far too energetic children, and the chattering of adults flooded the darkened room. Quickly closing the door behind him, Remus bit the sigh that wanted to escape. It had been nearly two days since he'd chanced over Harry on a battlefield and the only thing to describe the events since then was utter chaos.

Remus could still remember the stomach-dropping nausea that had invaded him the moment Tonks had looked at him, wide-eyed and shaky, and said the Ministry was recalling all Aurors. A simultaneous attack all over Britain, public buildings and the homes of influential wizards and witches (with the occasional Muggle-born and Muggle home thrown in for sheer destruction) were being invaded.

The Order pendant had burned, Ministry alarms had flared, and the voluntary Watchkeep League had signaled as many of its members as possible.

Remus himself had been dispatched with the same Auror team Kingsley Shacklebolt had led. They'd made it in time to watch a shrouded group retreat from Wind's End, a small village of mostly magical parentage. But by then four homes were burning. A quick check had revealed most of the occupants dead, still caught in the last act they would ever do.

He could still remember a girl tucked in her room, her young face lax with sleep having never woken to see the spell that had blown her upper torso in half. Why waste a killing curse when a simple cutting curse could do the trick?

A mother and wife, baby pink yarn tangled in pale fingers, and head three feet away from the rest of her body.

A weathered post outside had named the dead family Clement; the only survivor a five-year old boy cowering under his dead sister's bed and who'd nearly died in the spreading fire. There'd been little any of them could do.

So they'd moved on, knowing it wouldn't be the only target for the particular group they'd barely missed.

And it wasn't.

Eddings Moor had been their next rallying point. Remus would never remember how many gods he implored if only they wouldn't find the same scene repeated. And their first turn of luck finally came their way.

Eddings Moor, a gathering of homes that made up the extended Reinhart Family was protected by a shimmering pale blue shield. A cluster of masked figures stood just outside the perimeter firing spell after spell, watching the shield flare electric green-wisps of magic that flared toward the Death Eaters who managed to just stay out of range. The Aurors were quick to cast anti-Aparation and anti-portkey wards, pouncing on the invaders. Half of them got away but not before seriously injuring an Auror and two 'Keepers, one of which later died from his injuries.

The night did not end there.

About half of them were still fit to continue on to the next rally, Feldyr Valley, just in time to see a Manor's ward's fail and a mesh of Aurors, Order members, and Keepers clash with masked Death Eaters.

And Remus was reminded of those ugly days in the time immediately after he graduated from Hogwarts. Dark magic and death flying about.

Even now he couldn't explain what happened next. One moment there was a press of bodies and the next iridescent trails of misty-fog had shot up from the ground, temporarily stunning foe and friend alike. Their ragtag group had just arrived, fully capable of capitalizing on the largest capture of Death Eaters that night.

He could only wonder what Harry had been doing there; holding two wands—one of which burned his hand and the other which he didn't even dare touch. Something about the second wand made the teeth in his mouth ache and his shoulders tense, his inner wolf howling in protest. His sensitive nose could still pick up the heavy smell of magic that clung to the young wizard even two days after the fact. Whatever had left Harry exhausted had been incredibly powerful.

"You doing all right there?" A soft, throaty voice asked; the speaker being a young blond woman dressed in smudged Healer robes Remus had known for just over a year. A recent recruit that hadn't been old enough to fight in Voldemort's First War.

"I should be asking you that. Have you even slept, Olivia?"

She gave a tired chuckle. "I've forgotten the meaning of the word. Thirty-eight hours in St. Mungo's, twenty of which were spent in lockdown. The only reason I was finally released is because not even pepper-up potion was helping anymore. Besides that it was mostly the first few hours that were the most critical. It's a sad fact but unless they get immediate medical attention, people are liable to die from their injuries."

Wearily Olivia sat down on one of the tables pushed up against the dinning room wall, the room having been expanded to accommodate the influx of refugees. The room was filled with the soft chatter of late dinners. Almost immediately kitchen aids roped in by Mrs. Weasley delivered warm plates to the pair.

"Are people still coming in?"

"Yes." Olivia blew out, mouth stung by too hot tea. "The lucky ones were among the homes hit later in the night. Bastards didn't have enough time to do such a _through_ job; they mostly just blasted the homes when they could and tried to set fire to the rubble. Rescue crews were still digging out survivors thirty hours after."

"Is your family alright?" Remus asked once she'd taken a bite of her meal.

"Merlin, yes." She breathed out shakily, remembering the awful feeling of not _knowing_ if her home was being targeted, if her parents were among the dead, if her sister's family was alright. "I only found out after they lifted the lockdown but my sister and her family left to be with my parents. Their house has older and stronger wards."

Remus glanced around him before leaning in. "Some of the Aurors have been saying that the Death Eaters had a copy of all the wards on the homes. If it was registered with the Ministry then they knew about it. Most of the targets that had survivors or stood with little to no damage were the ones that had wards that weren't accounted for—wards not commonly cast either."

Olivia shivered. "The most awful thing is you just don't know who's behind the mask. The longer you think about it the easier is to image something suspicious about your friend, your neighbor…it's awful."

Remus nearly stiffened. Faith was something he'd already painted in blood and pain nearly two decades ago. There was reason why he was the only Marauder left; one had broken faith and the rest hadn't had enough but they'd all suffered for it. Even foolish Peter whose plot should have worked spent a decade as a rat, abandoning everything he was and knew just to survive the fall out.

"If you can't even trust your friends then we're already lost…"

Olivia was silent as she ate a few more bites, the warm light from various candles dimming the room enough to create a quiet atmosphere. "I know there's a meeting later tonight but frankly I can't stay awake for a moment longer. My brother's running about somewhere here, my parents have their Manor on lockdown, and I've done all I could. Aaron—Healer Myers—also came off shift with me; he should be able to explain anything should anyone have any questions about St. Mungo's."

"Get some rest, Olivia. There should be some unoccupied beds on the third floor—Molly made a sort of girl's dormitory for everyone. Just charm the area around if you want some privacy, I'm afraid there aren't any private rooms."

"It's more than fine. At this point a corner on the floor is looking awfully tempting…"

Remus was left to finish his meal, his thoughts morosely returning to the events of two days ago.

There'd been seventeen dead accounted for in Wind's End, six of them children too young to attend Hogwarts, a toddler among them. He could still smell the heavy coppery smell of blood found in one of the burning homes' bathrooms. A young pregnant woman, chest bloody and gurgling lay sprawled under a shower that she'd never taken; miraculously having survived till just seconds after Remus had arrived.

He remembered a deafening silence roaring, someone screaming before he realized it was him. Because he was a werewolf and in that moment his senses were more open than they'd ever been…because he'd heard such a weak heartbeat fading. An unborn child still struggling.

He'd never had as much respect for any Healer as he had for Auror-Healer Riane Keene in that moment. A no-nonsense woman who'd practically shoved Remus aside in her haste to get to whatever patient she could still save. With precision he'd only seen in Champion marksmen Healer Riane had cut the woman open, and taken a weakly struggling baby, wand waving and lips muttering to clean newly-needed lungs. The night had been so confusing Remus still didn't know what happened to the baby and truthfully he was afraid to know. He didn't know what he would do if the baby hadn't survived the hurried trip to St. Mungo. And still…the thought of a child, an infant, having to survive alone in a world that had already proved unkind left him uneasy. Unsettled perhaps more from the fact that it reminded him too much of another wizard baby and his own failures.

"Remus?"

"Tonks." Remus blinked before his mind caught up with him. "So-Sorry; mind must have wandered off."

"To be expected." The younger woman sighed as eyes lifted to scan the gathered crowd. "Merlin…what a mess."

A sudden influx of people signaled the arrival of the last people there for the Order meeting. An oddly comforting clunking was all that was needed to announce Alastor Moody's presence. He was there to act as the presiding head in the absence of Albus Dumbledore, who was most likely still mired either at Hogwarts or in whatever make-shift Ministry Diggory (if he was still alive) had managed to set up.

"Settle down people! We're all bloody—"

"Alastor! Language." Most members didn't even look in Molly's direction, as used to as they were to the motherly Weasley matriarch.

"—tired but it's important we all know what's going on. The Wizarding Wireless is still down and the Floo system probably won't be operational for months to come so for now the only reliable means of communication is through Muggle telephones. Everyone should see where things get complicated there. Now I'll make this brief, hold your questions till I'm done." Moody's roving eye seemed to stare everyone down, further emphasizing the fact he wouldn't tolerate any cheeky upstarts.

"Hogwarts remains under lockdown with Albus and his staff's keeping a watch on both the Castle and nearby Hogsmeade. For those of you that have children there, owls are still being restricted. All mail will be screened by the faculty before it makes it way to any of the students.

"Last I heard Minister Diggory was injured in the one of the raids and for one reason or another hasn't been able to assume command. I don't know the names of all the Department Heads but about half are still unaccounted for, with two confirmed dead. The Auror Head has since set up command in the Ministry's Administrative building located in Whales. Ministry employees are to check in at Whales with their Department Head or the most senior ranking superior in their department and receive their assignments from them.

"St. Mungo has released a list of dead that will be updated every six hours. There are no visitors allowed as of yet. For security purposes the patient registry will not be released till further security measures have been implemented.

"Wizarding enclaves remain under a dusk curfew that will be enforced _forcefully. _This isn't the time to be toying the rules.

"On a more personal note, Grimmauld has taken as many people as we can reasonably support. If your families aren't here I suggest you make arrangements for them elsewhere. Order Members should keep their pendants on hand till we officially move out of high alert…

"…Now! Comments?!"

For a second everyone recoiled as Moody practically barked the last question. People shifted, glancing at each other from the corner of their eye. It wasn't surprising no one wanted to be the sole focus of Moody's eye. They might be allies but it didn't mean their allies didn't unsettle them at times.

"Ah…Mr. Moody—I'm Kip. Kip Leevy—A couple of us 'eard that _Harry Potter _was a fighting in the raids."

Moody snorted, electric blue eye peering at Leevy. "What a schoolboy does or does not to should be the least of your worries. Regardless Potter's under enough death threats for anyone to be talking about his activities or whereabouts. Is that quite understood?"

"I dun mean to interrupt ya sir," another wizard piped up. "But will Mr. Potter be joining our squads here?"

Scarred features twisted in a quickly forming glare. And when Moody glared, he _glared. _"And what exactly do you expect from a boy a decade younger than you, Pike? Our defense is not dependent on one person. If you feel you need a boy to stand in front of you then what right have you at all to choose who wins and who loses in this war?"

Pike ducked his head hastily.

"Any other questions?"

"Professor Moody?" A woman, young enough to have been a Hogwarts student around the same time Barty Crouch Jr. commandeered the position, stood up. "How long can we stay here? At Grimmauld?"

"Definitely till we move out of high alert. Any longer than that you'll need to talk to the house owner…if you can even find him. While the wards around this old place are some of the best around, Grimmauld remains the staging area for the Order. It isn't safe to continue for long in the midst of civilians.

"When will Professor Dumbledore be by?" Another witch asked.

"Albus has his hands full at is. All the comfort you need should be in the fact he's working to re-establish the Ministry and maintain Hogwarts' grounds.

"That's enough for tonight. Curfew will be maintained tonight, anyone walking about will be Stunned. Any complaints will be booted to the Ministry's refugee camps. The house will go under lockdown, which means no one is leaving the premises till first light. Remember, this isn't a refugee stop. What it_ is_, is some of the strongest wards cast by a succession of powerful wizards and everyone should be damn grateful the dump's been opened up."

Chair legs slid against the floor; footsteps and voices thundered as people stood up, some to return home before Grimmauld was locked down and others to a warm bed. And while tiredness trove many it remained clear nightmares were going to be no stranger.

**S**

"It's been a while boy." Moody greeted the wary-eyed teenager. The boy in question tiredly propped himself up against his pillows even as the older man took a seat. "Room's warded from spies—used to be the suit of one of the Elder Black's who had a penchant for peculiar…predilections. Mad as hatter but strong enough to have the world pander to his whims….

"Now…Let's get down to business. Frankly, I don't have the time to coddle you like Dumbledore is always playing at. I know bloody well you aren't half the fool you pretend to be and the way I reckon even if we tried keeping you here forcefully you'd be gone one way or another as soon as you're well enough to summon those dammed wands of yours that keep zapping everyone that's gotten near them."

"Oh…" Green-eyes blinked, stunned into silence.

"I'll tell you where they are as soon as you and I have a…chat, preferably one involving a minimum of useless yammering."

It wasn't much like Harry had a choice. So the boy did the only thing he could do. "Sure."

"Very well, Potter." The aged Auror noted with as much grace as his scarred face could convey. "First of all, when the time comes will you fight Voldemort?"

Moody didn't know what to think about the darkly bemused look the younger man gave him. It wasn't to say he didn't recognize (because he did) but he wasn't used to seeing it to such a degree on someone so…young. And that was remembering his childhood in the shadow of the Muggle's World War II and the Dark Lord Grindelwald's campaign. He'd seen children under the shadow of war before but the boy in front of him was dark and jaded as only some of the old veterans had been right before they'd gone one too many missions.

"So much fuss over such a silly child." The green-eyed boy hummed darkly. "So much ado about nothing…few have ever asked me what I would do."

Moody ignored the boy's mood, both because he knew it was somewhat as a result of a magical high and because frankly if the boy wasn't a little cracked by now he'd be more worried. "What will you do then?"

"I'm going to make the bastards pay back everything they've ever done to me." Harry hissed, magic stirring easily, still unstable from the recent workings. "But we'll also pay for everything we've ever done—from the beginning."

The retired Auror frowned, before practically growling his words. "Don't play word games with me; I've swallowed plenty of them already from the old goat Albus. You and Albus can give all the pretty speeches in the world but it is my job to make sure as many people as possible survive this trumped up excuse for a war. _Now…_tell me anything that will help me save the lives of everyone here!"

The boy was silent for a while, a myriad of thoughts flashing through quick-silver eyes. Finally Harry gave a hollow chuckle. "What did you expect? I've been trained _exceedingly_ well by Dumbledore. But I won't leave you in the blind if that is what you want. Beware Alastor Moody, because your job just got…vastly more difficult.

"Albus Dumbledore won't ever leave Hogwarts." Harry began, seemingly out of no where. "Nor will he ever get much of a chance to. Sometime soon, possibly around two months from now, Voldemort will launch the largest gathering of his army at Hogwarts and he will push to take the school as hard as he can. A prophecy made during Hogwarts founding will finally have a chance to play to completion, drawing in the last of the Founder's Bloodline together in conflict. Win or lose you will be lucky if Hogwarts remains standing.

"That will be your so-called Final Battle" The boy continued on dryly. "And the…_funny_ thing is there isn't much you can do to stop it. Close down Hogwarts and you lose the best opportunity you'll ever have at predicting Voldemort's position. Remove the students and you risk Voldemort changing his plan, never mind the opposition against closing the '_safest_ place in all Britain'. Remove the Headmaster and you lose one of the strongest defenses against _his _army Alert too many people and you lose what little control you have over the situation….So Mad-Eye Moody, how will you save them now?"

The retired Auror gave the younger man a level stare. "I'll give you one of my own warnings, then. Beware playing too many games boy, you don't have to be a different species to lose your humanity. Humans in fact oftentimes make the best monsters."

To the older man's surprise Harry just snorted at the warning. "I think I know that better than many. You should have realized the consequences of sending a child to play with monsters long ago. I've become quite good at recognizing them…even when no one else can."

"That prophecy…" Moody returned to the subject, entirely too jaded to care over much over the emotional and mental upheavals of one person. "Is that why you've been disappearing with vampires and the like?"

"It's certainly one of the reasons." Was all Harry was willing to admit.

"Is that all?"

Harry considered carefully; considered the upcoming Final Battle, considered the man before him, considered his own future. Fate could be changed, Abeforth Dumbledore had admitted as much. But sometimes…Harry was as willing as anyone to see it to completion. "I'll tell you this—Albus Dumbledore won't survive. That much is a guarantee. Whether the world remembers him as a hero or the last opposition to a new regime will largely depend on you."

"Just because he won't survive doesn't mean it will be Voldemort's victory, does it?" Moody correctly interpreted.

"They both belong to Founder's bloodlines. That means it's highly unlikely either one will be in any position to enjoy the peace that will follow, under which ever reign should succeed."

"You make it sound as if the bloodlines of the Hogwarts Founders are important to the war but most of them have died one way or another. And the only other person directly related to them will be Morrigan…your new friend, eh?"

"He's Ravenclaw's blood." Harry shrugged, wincing as tired muscles prodded him.

"And it's a right old gathering, isn't it?"

Harry settled back down on his pillows. "It won't do you much good do know that. I've told you what useful information I know. All I can advise you is to make sure Hogwarts has a _very_ good evacuation plan going on. Safest place in Britain or not, it doesn't matter. It isn't wise to keep students there under lockdown once a magical battle the scale of which few living have seen."

"And it still remains to be seen where you will be when the time comes."

Harry gave the older man an indescribable look. "I'm quite tired, Moody. As much as this conversation has been…entertaining, I'll like to take a nap while I can. You must forgive me but I'll be leaving as soon as I can."

Moody snorted as he stood up. "Do as you will, I doubt there'd be much in the way of stopping you anyway."

A cacophony of noises flooded the room as Moody opened the door and closed it behind him.

Alone now Harry starred up at the ceiling and worried. He worried he wasn't strong enough, smart enough. He worried how big a sacrifice the magic would require. Because above all, Harry wasn't going to let himself die without a fight. And he worried how many would judge him for what he wouldn't to.

Albus Dumbledore would die, one way or another, and when the time came Harry would step aside. Harry wasn't in any sort of mood to save the aged man. Because…

…Because Harry…couldn't forgive.

**S**

"Professor Dumbledore, the time for games is over. I know just as well as anyone else the type of power your…_boy_ plays with but he is an iconic figure. With the Ministry as destabilized as it is, we need every card we can out on the playing field." Auror Fullbright, Minister Diggory's personal advisor, prodded the aged Headmaster for what seemed like the millionth time.

Fullbright had made no secret his disdain for the pretty figurehead a little schoolboy thought to play. But he was a pragmatic man and the recent upheavals made him grasp at every weapon in the Ministry's battered arsenal. Even if it was a naïve boy who preferred the shadows than taking a real stand.

Dumbledore nodded his head in kindly consideration but not in agreement, something that Fullbright sourly noted. And with that the request was dismissed in what Fullbright believed a result of Dumbledore's soft-heartedness. Had Fullbright actually realized how little control Albus Dumbledore retained over his ex-student or even knew where he was he wouldn't have been as frustrated as he currently felt.

"We can not rely on a single child." Dumbledore had the audacity to remind the exhausted Auror.

"And he cannot hide in the shadows while good men and women fight in his name." Fullbright grumpily added.

"Not even Minister Diggory approved of the involvement of children in this conflict."

"Yes…" Fullbright drawled. " Lot of good that does us now. The other side had no problem culling everyone they could—children included. Besides the Minister still hasn't woken up to see the new situation before us."

"Nevertheless, Auror Fullbright, the people haven't sanctioned you with the power to recruit."

Fullbright glared at the distance, unwilling to admit he had no power recruiting the bedammed boy that was certainly powerful enough to make a devastating weapon in the field. "The boy doesn't have to fight now but you can't deny he is one of the most powerful wizards to come out of Hogwarts in decades. Give him over to me and the Aurors and by the time you feel he is ready he'll have all the training to survive in battle."

"Yet it remains a burden no one in good conscious can ask a child to take."

"He's hardly a child, even if you insist on hiding him in your coattails." Fulbright retorted.

"Really Auror, now is not the time to argue over one child. I came to speak with you to find out what I can the new chain of command."

The younger man nodded stiffly, realizing now was the not the time to fall back on old arguments. "Most of the Department Heads are either dead or missing but I wouldn't be surprised if one or two turned up in Russia two years from now recovering from a nasty case of amnesia.

"Minister Diggory would normally be succeeded by the DMLE Head and then one of the other Department Heads. But so far it's been confirmed Madam Bones was one of the first people executed and none of the other Department Heads that actually survive are willing to come out of hiding or capable of holding the position. As such I've been coordinated the Ministry's resources out of Wales.

"Most of the Governing Council survived, despite being targeted, but they've been disbanded while Martial Law remains in effect."

"If you are taking command who will be the new liaison between the Order and the Ministry?"

"I have just the man for you, Fudge's old secretary. I believe he was your student not so long ago, the red-headed Weatherby."

"Very well." Dumbledore said.

"Have you perhaps heard anything about the bothersome Morrigan? Everyone we suspected of being involved with him is suspiciously silent and suspiciously alive."

"Nothing official or unofficial besides some speculation he may have further warded sites of his choosing."

"Troublesome." Fulbright snorted. Although still a complete disarray some of the Aurors had mentioned an odd shield that protected some homes though nothing concrete emerged and no one exactly had the time to investigate such matters.

"Has there been any progress in uncovering who the traitor is?"

Fullbright's face immediately hardened. "No, whoever they were they were very deep in the Ministry to disable so many of our security measures. If they're anywhere as smart as I suspect they would have disappeared by now. And with everything still in disarray it will be a while before our traitor is named."

Both men frowned in the silence. A war wasn't very effective when your allies weren't really your allies.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave. I cannot stay away from Hogwarts for too long, not with the school still in lockdown."

Both men nodded and separated with hardly a goodbye.

**S**

Ron Weasley would be the first to tell you he wasn't the smartest bloke out there. Despite his best efforts he'd never been the best at anything besides being the Chudley Cannon's most ardent fan.

He wasn't as powerful, as daring, as smart, or even as clever as any of his brothers. In school he'd always been outshined by Hermione 'the smartest girl in Hogwarts' Granger and Harry 'Star Seeker' Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He'd disappointed many people; his mother for not being as prim as Percy, his best-friend for not understanding, his teachers for being just another knuckle-headed boy with Quidditch on the brain.

But he'd grown.

He'd seen one friend be chased out of Hogwarts by political moves Ron could scarcely understand. He'd almost lost a sister at least three different times (lending credence to the belief that a seventh Weasley was just unlucky). And less than a week ago he'd almost lost his father in the wake of the Ministry attack. For the first time in years Molly Weasley gave thanks to her stubborn husbands refusal to move on up to a Department Head (it was widely understood most of them were dead).

And less than an hour ago he'd woken up to find a letter next to his bedside. Had it been anyone else Ron would have dismissed it as a bad joke. But when Harry Potter gave you a letter in the middle of a war, there were worse things one could do than pay attention.

_Ron,_

_Find an escape route._

_It will happen soon and when it does everyone must be ready to leave the grounds as fast as they can. Talk to those you trust, find a way out._

_Hogwarts will be no place for anyone. Use the Map if need be._

_There is a favor I would ask of you. I'll tell you soon. If you say yes, you mustn't ever tell anyone. It's important._

_Take care of yourself. Don't let anyone you suspect goad you into a fight. They all know what's coming and everyone's afraid._

_We'll see each other soon…Thank you._

_Harry_

Ron didn't like how…final that letter sounded. Like something his friend was involved with flirted with certain death.

Ron had never been the smartest boy. But he was a good strategist, and right now that was the best thing he could be. He'd find a way.

He'd protect his classmates, he'd give them a way out in what he knew would be a nasty fight. And he hoped the promise of finality in Harry's letter could be stopped. He'd do whatever favor needed of him, because he had begun to understand just what type of sacrifice had been made of Harry's life.

It was the least he could do.

**S**

"_It's natural for humans to try and explain and classify their environment. Everything they know, whether relevant or not, are named and in doing so humans are given the illusion of control. _

"_A lion is a lion and being a lion it has sharp claws with a taste for meat. Because a lion is a lion, humans know better than to go up to it and pet it like they would a housecat. And since a lion is a lion, humans think they can respond properly and control any interactions._

"_The same line of thought will generally adjust itself to any situation. Generally being the key because there is nothing general about magic. Magic isn't just magic when a lion can become a pigeon from one second to the next._

"_Despite that, humans' quantified magic; building it up from a few key fundamentals, most stemming from the manipulation of the natural world. The standardization of Wizarding enclaves gave rise to an easily accessible and well-documented curriculum from which Wizarding children could readily be inducted in. While this synchronization allowed Wizarding communities to expand their numbers beyond what they could previously have supported, there where some unforeseen consequences._

"_Magic isn't just magic and any such explanation that tries to define it otherwise is inherently flawed. _

"_Primal magic, the first level of manipulation, is first and foremost based on belief and will. That is where the old school of thought and the new conflict, for how can one say this belief is stronger, worthier, more relevant than that one? _

_How can one say this will can supersede another, when will is often times a product of endurance and sheer doggedness. All precedents must eventually shatter when one considers the fact that will is sometimes all that is needed to make the impossible, possible._

"_Thus, will is a nexus of endless possibilities. And because of this magic is magic, and magic is undefined."_

"It's very good." Harry said, hand tracing the worn edges of the yellowed scroll.

"I thought you might like it." Amos murmured from his perch on top of a thick winding evergreen.

"Did you write it?"

A slow chuckle drifted in the calm air. "Not me; magical theory never really was my field of interest. If you can believe it, it was a dissertation proposed by me eldest childe, Likos, who died in the age of the Romans."

"So…will and belief?"

"Once you forget everything anyone has ever taught you, does it make you any less of a wizard? Power is power."

"…power is power…"

Idly the Elder vampire glanced at the mortal boy. Maybe it was because humans' life-spans were relatively short compared to those of his own kind, but when a vampire would see something like 'power is power' it would have an entirely different impact than when humans or even a wizard would hear 'power is power'. That was one of the reasons why Amos had the feeling Harry would take the idea somewhere surprising.

And for a vampire as old as Amos, surprising was generally synonymous with interesting.

"…Amos?...Could I ask you a favor?"

The Elder frowned, wary of such a question. "The Clans have already reached a consensus, child. We will withdraw from Britain, leaving behind only the bare essentials to guard our Houses. It is as you yourself asked of us. We will not bind ourselves to this war; none that remain have any fealty to the Clans."

"I am grateful but that is not what I wanted to ask."

"Oh?"

"There will come a time…I'll need help. I will finish this war, fate be dammed…but I might not be able to protect myself."

"You would have us spirit you away?"

"I will be vulnerable." Harry admitted, not altogether eagerly.

"Does it mean you will tell me whatever mad plan you've dreamt up?"

"…no."

Amos sighed, not surprised. "Very well. Spiriting away doesn't break any agreements we have dealt."

Harry nodded and hoped he wasn't making empty plans for a future too hazy to see. But either way time was running out.

"Almost?" Amos asked carelessly, as if the question didn't lead to large-scale death and massive destruction.

Green-eyes flared milky for less than a second before Harry shivered. "…Almost."

_Almost._

No longer the time for reconciliation's, for finishing work left half-done or saying words that shouldn't be left silent. No time to settle the ghosts of his rag-tag family, bumbling as they had been. No time to fix the damage that had scarred them all with wounds that would always need to be favored. No time.

_Almost._

**S**

A tea cup trembled in wrinkled hands as it was set down on a scarred and stained table. An old man shifted minutely, pale milky eyes sightlessly fixed on a spot on the floor.

A nearby fireplace crackled, the old man's only constant company for more years than he cared to remember.

_Almost_, whispered mad voices.

With ease that spoke of familiarity, the old man gingerly shuffled to the fireplace before carefully dousing the flames. A hiss of steam smelling of his favorite tea drifted around him before disappearing.

Hands drifted along the familiar contours of his little hut before they touched the cool and slightly damp window pane. Dawn was fast-approaching.

Unlatching the window he threw them open, breathing deeply the cool spring air before settling into silence.

Ever so slowly as the dark night sky lightened a deep blue-violet and sapphire, milky eyes slowly drained. With every blink, pale blue eyes blinked in wonder.

For the first time since he'd been a young man, unaware of the madness that would dog his steps, Aberforth Dumbledore saw the world through his own eyes.

Brilliant gold rays broke through distant hills.

Behind him two men drifted in through assassins' feet.

Abeforth smiled with something like joy as his body fell, sprawled on the ground like a broken toy. Blue eyes drifted close, finally freed of their burden.

And Abeforth didn't See anymore.

**S**

**TBC….**

**AN: Thing are winding down for the end. And yes, it took me a while but I'll finish it next chapter (and pray to all your cookie-gods next chapter doesn't come till another year)**

**Anyway this was my first story and I hope I've grown somewhat.**

**Thanks to all your scarily persistent reviews. It made me guilty each time that little number would climb one more.**

**I think that's it for now. **


	29. Crowned Prince

**Crowned Prince**

**S**

The weather-worn tombstones were completely unremarkable. Two people, hardly more than children, sharing a death-day. The final resting place for a woman who in death had proven the most powerful witch of all (despite any claim giving the title to a vicious Dark Lord or a figurehead Headmaster). She'd done the impossible; she had literally turned death away (having surpassed those that cheated it).

They were entombed in the grounds of an abandoned mausoleum-like Castle. The oldest Potter property and what eventually became the Potter Cemetery. There where many plots about, more than those from recent times. Back from a time when the Potter Family hadn't been reduced to a single son.

Kneeling besides the graves Harry bowed his head to both plots, not entirely comfortable offering prayers he'd never been taught. Hesitantly he traced his father's headstone before abruptly turning toward his mother.

_Lily Potter nee Evans_.

The most powerful witch of them all, his mother. Her sacrifice imprinted in his body and soul.

She would save her son one more time.

**S**

"This isn't the time to be foolish." Mad-Eye Moody grunted, disgruntled figure decked in his familiar coat and one hand twitching toward his wand.

Hogwarts had a certain affect on him. It made him prone to…twitchiness…of the painful kind, at least to anyone that caught him unawares. It was something of a souvenir from his very disagreeable year as a Defense Professor, mostly because he spent it in a trunk.

Albus Dumbledore gazed out onto the grounds, the warming weather releasing restless students from the castle. "For all my power there is little I can offer those that leave these halls. But to deliberately make this the staging ground…to invite the Ministry…surely you can understand how ill-conceived that is."

Moody twitched, eying a terrified looking portrait of a former Headmaster. "And deliberately ignoring the very real threat is idiotic. I don't know for certain what plans you had but if you expected Voldemort to chase after the Potter boy for however long it took to kill each other then you miscalculated miserably. Voldemort's been careful to leave the boy's friends alone and the boy's likewise been careful to disappear."

"It is their destiny to meet." Albus disagreed. "Tom has always balked at any power held over him; he will not tolerate the weakness presented by young Harry. It is only a matter of time till he deliberately seeks out Harry."

"And despite how moon-addled all his unnatural rituals must have driven him even he is smart enough to recognize a war is badly done if fought on more than one front. The Ministry, the Order, and whatever tricks Morrigan's shrouded his people with leave too many directions from which to attack him with. Voldemort won't come after Potter till at least one of those is dealt with.

"The Ministry's in shambles but Fullbright managed to halt its deterioration completely and their strength was in numbers enough to stand the blows. Morrigan's disappeared into whatever hideaway he has and without Potter around we haven't a reliable route of communication to find the man. You remain the easiest and most visible target. It's dammed obvious half of those in the Order would disband without you."

"The fact remains that unless we can personally review every Auror it isn't worth the risk to invite unknown dangers into Hogwarts."

"It's not like some of those sniveling little brats you call students haven't already sworn themselves to their Master!"

"That is an entirely different situation—"

"It's the same! You just refuse to see it."

"—the fact remains, while they are students here I owe them my protection, even if it's from ill-thought choices."

"We haven't the luxury to save everyone."

"We have the responsibility to help those we can."

Moody snorted, more irritable than usual. "At what cost, Albus? This isn't a game and those students aren't pieces. Endanger the lot to save the strangling few? No one will thank you for that."

"This is a school; I will not have it turn into a battleground." Albus stated firmly.

"You haven't a choice now, do you old man? War wants what it wants and right now it wants you. He'll come for you, for this school; the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries. And while you battle for your ground, who will protect your precious students?"

"Hogwarts has and will remain one of the safest places in all of Britain. Trust in her."

Moody sighed tiredly; he'd been having entirely too many bad days. "Do as you will; I could never convince you once your mind was set. But I will advice you to call in some Aurors from Fullbright, even if you have to hand-pick them yourself. Gringotts and the Ministry have been successfully attacked, Hogwarts and the Alleys remains the only other Wizarding gatherings tempting enough in number."

Alastor Moody wished for the hundred time that the old Headmaster wasn't half as stubborn as he was. Harry Potter might be as addled as Voldemort himself but the boy held too much conviction to dismiss. If he felt old Hogwarts was going to take a blow she might not stand then there was a very good chance the school needed to be evacuated.

**S**

"Stop." Amos commanded,the light of the room glinting off his cool amber eyes.

Harsh breathing gasped their weariness. Sweat-soaked hands slid across the cool stone floor, trembling legs splayed on the ground. The naturally chilled floor was a blessed relief on Harry's flushed face.

"You are still holding back."

"Can't…help…it. Unless…I…want…to…visit…the Reaper…early."

The Elder Vampire scoffed, boots clicking softly as they made their way to the kneeling boy in the center of an otherwise empty Chamber. "There is a difference between being too afraid to go all the way and choosing to step away from the end. _You_ are still afraid."

"Death usually has that reaction."

"And that remains your problem. There is no death, there is no life—there is only your will and magic. The sooner you understand that the faster you will reach Final Release."

Wild soaked black hair was tossed out of determined green eyes. "Then we'll try it again."

There was something oddly proud in the smirk Amos tossed Harry as the former retreated once more to stand against the wall.

Harry threw his body up once more, hands empty as they were flung as far away from each other.

_Initial Tear_.

Slowly diamond-bright green eyes flashed, vacillating wildly between obsidian darkness and milky whiteness. At first the scent and press of magic coiled around his figure before increasing exponentially.

One palm erupted in Black Flame—wild, dark, and searing in its power. The other flashed misty white—heavy and burning in unforgiving purity. Straining wrists inched closer together, conflicting powers repelling and attracting each other. Fingertips ghosted against each other for less than a second before a dull explosion sounded off, Harry skidding as he was literally pushed back. The magic continued churning around the original nexus, the force brining Harry to his knees.

"Closer."

Harry laughed weakly. "If I didn't think this was my best option…"

"One has a half-century of experience over you and the other three times as much. No training, no matter how dedicated, will bring you to their level. In the end sheer power is the only place where you can match them, that is all."

"Don't I know it." Harry muttered.

"That is enough for today, child."

The mortal boy rubbed his eyes, blinking to clear them. "No. Let me try one more time."

"If you break yourself while you have yet work to do you will be completely useless when the time comes, child."

"And if I don't learn this, I am completely useless having never given it my all. There is little reason to do something only half-way."

"Admirable." The Elder admitted, amber eyes considered the rumbled boy. "Very well then, child. One more time but that will be all for today."

Forcibly controlling panting breaths, Harry stood up once more in the center of the room, eyes ready for the next challenge.

**S**

Some would say Ron had been a part of some of the greatest deeds to come out of Hogwarts in recent years. He'd dealt in everything from illegal dragon eggs to the wandering spirit of the Dark Lord to the time honored Quidditch rally between the Four Houses.

But Ron would be the first to tell you he had never been the star of any of them. Just the unfortunate boy that had to fudge the truth about a dragon bite, always the one that had to stay behind as someone else was forged into a hero, and basically the Keeper that cheered alongside everyone else when the Seeker was hailed the star. It's not like he was completely unfamiliar with the feeling—he'd been intimately aware of the fact since he could toddle, always the unremarkable boy passed over by gushing aunts as they honed in on the first Weasley girl in generations.

The fact was that for the first time in his life Ron was stepping forward. And he was completely terrified it wouldn't be enough.

Finger drummed on the wooden desk, the only nervous reaction no amount of internal reprimands seemed capable of stifling. Biting back a sigh, Ron glanced at the room around him for what seemed like the hundredth time. Somehow, when first he'd scouted the area the room had seemed a whole lot more inviting.

It was proving to be something else entirely. Not when Theodore Nott repressed a twitch every time Ron tapped an off-key melody—rich brat probably heard the original melody from some extravagantly talented musician. Lisa Turpin, a calm stern brown-haired girl that looked even more like McGonagall than Hermione ever did didn't even look up from the novel she read.

The door slid open, causing the three students to look up.

Sheepishly framed against the door was Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Sorry! Sorry I'm late; got held up…err…Ron? What's everyone doing here?"

"Excellent question. Weasley, I would like to know as well."

From her corner Lisa asked him the same question with a tilt of her head.

"There's really no way of saying any of this gently. I asked someone from each House because what I have to say involves the whole of Hogwarts. I'm not betraying any deep secret when I tell you Hogwarts will be attacked very soon. Honestly? We've all been here for the last seven years and you should have heard at least half the rumors floating about."

"Is this really something you should be telling all of us?" Lisa asked, voicing the question Justin was too polite to ask even as he eyed Nott with a touch of distrust.

"I think what I have to say is above any rivalries we have among ourselves. I asked each of you here for a reason. You all have abilities that by themselves are incredibly useful and versatile but together…together we have the talent to save ourselves.

"Everyone that's deep in the war knows Hogwarts will be the next battlefield. But what few of them know is what the Seers are whispering, that this will be the final stage. Whoever wins, wins the war and our world."

"You're not honestly proposing some silly little defense alliance? Are we to fly over a battleground and drop smoke bombs on them? Wave our wands and hope _Stupefy_ does the trick?" Nott snorted, lips twisting disdainfully.

Even Lisa and Justin looked dubious at the mere thought of the idea. They'd suffered the touches of war to believe they'd the skills to stand as a pillar of Hogwarts.

"No," Ron sighed. "Two years ago the D.A. was formed with the purpose of defending ourselves and that will continue to be our mission. What I'm talking about is what happens when this Final Battle begins. You think we'll be safe tucked in our little rooms? That we can close the bed curtains and pretend Hogwarts isn't being invaded?

"It comes back to what Seers have been whispering. They say there'll be a magical release the likes of what few living have seen. A battle that will take place inside Hogwarts. Frankly, that doesn't exactly inspire the biggest confidence in our continued safety.

"What I'm proposing—what Dumbledore's been advised to do—is make an evacuation plan. Figure a way to safely leave these grounds. I know you all might be reluctant—you all know people who will be fighting in both sides of the conflict. But that doesn't matter _here_. What matters is all the children in our Houses—eleven years old, twelve years olds, little midgets that haven't a clue what any of this means.

"We don't belong in this war." And Ron finally understood what Harry had never dared say. They weren't of the war, didn't have half the ideals it took to fight with everything they had. They were stupid children, blind to games played out before their very birth.

"What does Potter say?" Nott asked, confident as most everyone seemed to be that Ron had a clue of where the wizard had run off to.

Ron wasn't too ashamed to deny the usefulness of having Harry's name on his side. "That we leave when they fighting starts."

Justin looked troubled in a way that meant he wanted to protest but reluctant to voice his thoughts.

"How?" Lisa asked, calmly and practically. Ron sighed in relief; he hadn't believed Harry when he said this girl would be Ravenclaw's key. Admittedly he knew Luna the best out of Ravenclaw but he very much doubted she would have convinced anyone of their plan.

She continued, "If Hogwarts is to be invaded would it not be safer to remain in our Houses where access can be controlled and blocked."

Ron didn't even have to answer as Nott snorted. "Only if you have a fool proof lockdown. It can very well become your tomb if you are trapped."

"Doesn't seem a Slytherin would have very much to fear from that, would he?" Justin interjected, troubled face very much suspicious. "Are we to build a plan only to have it sold out a second later?"

Lisa shrugged when Ron looked at her. It was a valid point after all.

Nott sniffed disdainfully at the Hufflepuff. "You honestly believe the Dark Lord doesn't have his spies in every House? Not everyone has the support and resources to say no when He calls."

"And I suppose you do." Justin retorted defensively but with a trace of curiosity, asking something that could not be asked. He was a Hufflepuff and he would work with the others but faith alone would not be enough to bind them.

The Slytherin shrugged gracefully. "I am young, rich, and influential—much too valuable to have killed when I said no. The same can not be said of everyone."

"He's right." Ron interrupted before they lost focus entirely. "Not everyone we know will choose how we want them, or even have the chance. Nott—we all know your History. Justin, your best-friend Ernie's; his Uncle and Aunt on his mum's side are members of the Order of the Phoenix; Lisa you've two cousins Marked as well and a second-cousin Order member. But other than that, unless you're just plain wicked at keeping secrets no one else here has bowed to Him."

Two out of three listening stiffened as Ron just blabbed carefully kept family secrets.

"And it doesn't matter." He continued. "They won't be trapped inside this ruddy castle when the walls are shaking and things are burning. If we don't lose to the castle we'll lose the second we run into a full blown battlefield."

"There…there are passages that can lead you secretly." Lisa ventured hesitantly, more than content to ignore the fact that her companions now knew her respectable Cousin Gavin was Marked.

Justin bit his lip uncertainty before he slowly nodded. On the other hand Nott had never had much qualms about the forming of a plan to begin with. His survival was prime and Nott as much as he'd watched his fellows had never had a chance to seek out Hogwarts secrets. Not like some of his more mischievous classmates had.

"There'd have to be more than a couple. Our Houses are scattered everywhere and we can't all be clogging one route. It'd be an open death trap." Justin said.

"What about it Weasley?" Nott nettled. "Slytherin's always had rumors that some Gryffindors had a ways of seeing where everyone is."

Ron resisted the urge to sigh. It wasn't like he hadn't intended to bring out his secret weapon though it made a peevish side of him protest that little bit of knowledge reaching Slytherin ears.

"I've a…Map. It'll show you pretty much everyone inside Hogwarts. I'll warn you right now, the Map belongs to Harry and as busy as he is if we ruin it you'll be sure sanity is not something any of us will be meeting soon."

It was a testament of how much Harry's 'instability' had become a part of life if no one protested the very real pain they would face if they damaged the Map. It would have been more frightening if Harry wasn't half as nutters as Dumbledore and Voldemort judging by the way both had done their best to drive him there.

"So it is true, then." Nott smirked. "Used to drive some Slytherins mad how certain Gryffindors knew things they shouldn't have. We speculated we must have had a spy."

"Slytherins." Justin rolled his eyes.

"Well…I suppose." Ron grimaced. It was just a little painful to be the first of the Map-keepers to reveal the secret to a non-Gryffindor.

"Then each House will have its own route?" Lisa reminded them.

"Uh…it looks like it." Ron muttered as he unfurled the Map from his sleeve pocket. He'd taken the chance to activate it beforehand; while he might have to reveal the Map there was no reason to give away the password.

"Wicked." Justin breathed, hesitant fingers reaching for the parchment. Spinning lines shifted and formed, names and dots moved randomly.

"Very impressive." Nott admitted as Lisa shook her agreement.

Ron studied them closely, taking in every feature as if it would somehow assure their success. They couldn't afford to fail.

"I've been studying it…and remember the dock Hagrid led us in through first year? It should be empty of any battle." Ron began, fingers ghosting the map as the lines shifted to form the very room.

"We can't go on boats. We'd be open targets." Lisa immediately protested.

"..Eh...I though about that too. Anything on the water would be immediately noticeable, right? That's why we won't be on _top_ of the water. The way I see it Gillyweed can temporarily give someone gills, right? Long enough for some of us to travel the bottom to the other edge of the lake or even take enough gillyweed to hide with the mermaids till this is over."

All three stared at Ron. Ron shifted as he rubbed the back of his head. "Just thought it might be a good idea…"

"Quite brilliant." Lisa corrected, eyes turning back to the Map. "But we can't all go through that route. Ravenclaw is no where near the dock."

"I know; Slytherin and Hufflepuff are." Ron pointed out. Looking up he shrugged at their surprised gazes before he explained why their Houses weren't as secret as lore said they were. "This Map is bloody useful, you know. It has all the Houses marked down."

"Really." Was Nott's dry comment.

"Ravenclaw _could_ reach the dock if they used the west teacher's entrance and went through the Great Hall—" Lisa observed.

"No!" Ron nearly yelped. "Let's…let's just avoid the Great Hall. Trust me."

Three pairs of curious eyes eyed him before they shifted their attention back to the Map.

And Ron thought that maybe, just maybe, they'd be alright.

Eventually.

**S**

The forest groaned. Twisting trees and winding vines shifted in the shadows, alive with a strange intelligence and the knowledge that the night held dark secrets and darker promises. Beneath their shadowy cradle, men and beasts ghosted by intent on a distant target. Fear fed their nerves, born of the coming night and on the orders of the red-eyed wizard that pushed them forward.

Because he was He-Who-Denied-Death, ready to break the last pillar their world could refuge in. And he would not be cheated this time.

Lord Voldemort would finally bring forward a New World.

In the distance eternal stone gargoyles raised weathered and molded heads, blind eyes seeing an approaching enemy. Groaning limbs cried as an impossibly heavy, stone body took to the air. For the gargoyles had been part of Hogwarts battlements long enough to have met sieges before and they knew, even if many had forgotten, it was time to warn the Master of Hogwarts.

A Transfiguration Professor, who'd been patrolling the halls for careless students, just happened to be the first person to witness the strange sight that night.

A flying stone gargoyle.

But she knew what such a sign meant and even if distant windows only revealed a quiet forest, she knew the truth.

"Albus!" She slammed into his office, scattering paper with her sudden entrance.

And the Headmaster tilted his face to look at her, keeping his body still as he stared out into Hogwarts grounds. Absentmindedly he inquired, "My dear?"

"T-They're here!" Minerva McGonagall exclaimed, nerves jumping to the very ugly truth of the matter.

"Yes, my dear." The Headmaster answered unconcernedly.

"We must call the Ministry! The Order! _He _leads this army."

"Do not forget, Minerva. Hogwarts has withstood sieges before."

The woman glared fiercely, completely unamused by what she saw as a non-sequester. "I hardly think this is the time to bring up that."

"No," He corrected, finally turning to face her completely and face graver than she could remember. "This is the perfect time. Hogwarts security doesn't allow for portkeys or apparition. Tom's army will besiege us before help arrives and when they do they will arrive from behind the ward-lines."

"W-What will we do?" She'd rarely sounded more lost.

"Trust in Hogwarts."

Deep breath and calm; a cool head would save her faster than any Auror. "Ah…yes, of course, Headmaster."

"I would think any wandering students should be returned to their Houses. This is hardly the time to take a stroll."

"Of course," Minerva said more strongly. "Right away."

Alone in his office Albus bowed his head. Quietly he whispered, "I am…sorry it has come to this, Tom. For in the end not even you could escape Slytherin's Fate."

He kept his unflinching gaze locked to the outside of his window.

Fire flared in the distance, torches and light spells leading hulking trolls and giants as the first wave. They would batter Hogwarts protection, Albus knew, weakening it for those that would follow.

It wasn't time to worry. To wonder if things could have been different. If a Slytherin-blood child would have been any less destructive had he been given to purebloods instead of Muggles. If another Chosen child would have been any less angry if he'd been given to wizards.

And his World was fraying; falling and shattering on the wind of a child's rage. Because his two best hopes, the most powerful of their generation, had turned from him. Had denied him and the Order he had strived for.

He knew now that neither would ever be what he wanted from them. Powerful and driven they had become; the shinning beacon of their generation as he had been of his. And so very angry…

…they would see his World destroyed, willingly or unwillingly.

If neither could live while the other survived, well it was true as well neither could live while his World stood as it did, for neither had ever learned to love it as he did. Not even Harry for his wonder.

"And to you, young Harry, I am sorry."

For neither would be allowed to live to end his World.

Outside, the barrage began.

**S**

Blind hands reached for each other, animosities and grudges tossed, as they held each other. They were not so blind as to be ignorant of what was happening. Even the tiniest first-year knew the trembling walls were only the kindest sign of the war that was beginning in their very own home.

In his dorm Theodore Nott ghosted down to the Common Room, impenetrable eyes meeting the nervous gazes of his Housemates.

It was time.

Time to choose a Path and follow it through. Theodore knew little leniency would be found at the wrong end of the wand. From the opposite side of the room Daphne Greengrass moved to stand besides him. Her presence a comforting warmth at his back. He knew then more than ever that she would be his wife one day and he would learn to love her for it.

Theodore did not miss the occasional student clutching their left arm in phantom pain. Their Lord was Calling them, children Marked for a two pronged attack. Students huddled near one another, nervous eyes betraying just how frightened they were of promises that had always been too heavy for them.

Theodore could not waste time. He was not as foolish as to try to save everyone for even if they didn't belong to war they had been stupid enough to choose it.

"If you're going to leave, leave." Theodore called out bluntly, well aware of the wand Daphne kept ready in defense of him.

Many flinched, uncomfortable with the open acknowledgement of their allegiance. Because despite popular belief, even Slytherin was reluctant to leave their loyalties naked for all to see. Betrayal had always been all-together too common.

"Shut it Nott." A sixth-year boy snapped, pale skin betraying just how very much he was frightened.

"This is hardly the time to be indecisive." Nott murmured back smoothly. "Your loyalties are your own as are your oaths. You must all realize now is the time to honor them for few are known to forgive such matters."

"Planning to barricade yourself Nott?" Pansy Parkinson interrupted slyly. "You should. You should be very afraid because _I_ know you denied the Dark Lord."

Nott glanced at her before dismissing her comment with a tilt of his head. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the pale blond head of his roommate, Draco Malfoy. The poor boy looked decidedly sick.

Pity…

"I don't see why it should be of any importance to you, Parkinson, nor should you worry overmuch. I have always been of higher blood than you, my dear."

A wordless snarl twisted pug features, only settling when Daphne moved openly to stand besides him and stare her down.

"Time is wasting and the battle is beginning. Choose your path and face it tonight!" Nott called out to every ear listening in his crowded Common Room. Time was wasting.

From every corner of the room figures stirred, boys and girls, disentangling themselves from the desperate arms of younger siblings and frightened friends.

And then one other proved smart enough to see what Theodore had not said. A seventh year girl, Tracy Davis stepped forward from her heated argument with a boy that looked like her brother or cousin. "Nott! What aren't you telling us? You've been remarkably chum with Potter this year, surely you know something else."

Theodore smirked coldly at his watching Housemates as they stiffened, bodies stilling to listen. "I've told you, choose your path, the Final Battle begins tonight."

"W-What do you mean the F-Final Battle?" Another asked.

"Just that." Theodore said. "Winner takes all."

Theodore watched as a good dozen students left amidst pleading faces that already knew nothing good would be found out there. He continued watching as they flinched when the door slammed close, Malfoy's burdened eyes the last glimpse many saw as he followed his foolish promises.

"They've gone." Some whispered incredulously.

"Sho-Should we go?" Another asked hesitantly.

"Don't be an idiot." They murmured in a silence they didn't want to break.

"If that is all?" He called out to break their whispers. "Good. Then its time I tell you what will follow. Very soon Hogwarts will be swallowed by a battle that can and probably will tear a great chunk of it into rubble. Plans have been made beforehand to evacuate—"

"Out there?" A shrill protest interrupted.

Theodore ignored it. "I for one will be leaving. If you wish to stay then get used to the fact this might very well be your tomb."

Mulish and uncertain faces starred at him. It wasn't his job to save them. They were Slytherins.

"I leave in 10 minutes, with or without you."

"I'll follow." Daphne said just as strongly, calm and confident despite this being the first time she'd heard of such a plan.

Yes, Theodore though, she would make a strong woman.

The walls trembled, echoed blasts howling through empty corridors.

In Gryffindor Tower, Ron stuck out his hand to steady himself. With one last glance at his dorm, he committed all he could to memory. It might very well be that he would see his room.

"Ron?" Neville asked curiously, the only other boy that hadn't yet gone down to the Common Room.

He didn't answer for a moment. Sighing he jerked his head toward the bed nearest the window, its pressed sheets a sign that no teenage boy had regularly slept there. The boy in question had already left Hogwarts.

"Its funny, you know?" Ron said without any real humor. "How things could be so different from when we're just snot-nosed brats."

"Are you alright?"

"As fine as I'm ever going to be. And Neville? I wouldn't leave behind anything I'll miss terribly much."

"…Ron?"

"Meet me downstairs, will you."

He took every step slowly, fully seeing and appreciating his surrounding. So by the time he got downstairs a great portion of their House was huddled together, arguing and frightened.

"—I say we go out there and help the Professors. They'll be outnumbered." A loud sixth year was insisting.

"And what can we do? We're hardly a match for Death Eaters never mind whatever creatures they've brought along." Another student was protesting just as fiercely.

"We're Gryffindors! We've the courage to make a difference. And besides, don't you remember two years ago when a group of five students caught some of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters."

"That cant be true! No student can face an adult wizard."

"Is too! Where's Weasley and Longbottom? I tell you, they were there."

"I would forget that plan right now." Ron chided, using every last inch of his height to tower over every eavesdropping head.

"But isn't it true, Weasley? Didn't you catch Death Eaters when you were a fifth year?"

"True." Ron shrugged, meeting Hermione's eyes from across the room. She frowned back in worry, obviously at a lost on what to do. Distantly Ron realized this time it hadn't been her who'd thought up of a plan. He had done it all by himself. "And we all nearly died for it. We were lucky when we faced Death Eaters that weren't serious about hurting us. It wouldn't do to have some dead children appear before anyone believed the Dark Lord was back. This isn't like that."

"Then are we supposed to hide in here while people _die_ out there?" Someone bit out angrily.

"No."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" And really for all their talk of courage, they were still children.

"If you want to go, realistically I can't stop you. So I'll tell you right now what you can expect. Vo—Voldemort has brought his army, and you've all heard enough rumors to know it's made of monsters and men. But Hogwarts is strong so for the moment she'll keep them out. The thing is a moment is all we have right now. V-Voldemort is here to kill Dumbledore and to take Hogwarts, neither of which will happen quietly. For all purposes this is the Final Battle and there's a very real possibility Hogwarts will not stand to see its end. So we're evacuating."

Ron waited for the shouting to calm down.

"What does the Headmaster have to say?" Yelled one Gryffindor.

"The Headmaster…I don't know." Ron shrugged. "I know he's been advised to evacuate but I haven't an idea what that turned up and I asked the Head Boy and Girl already. Doesn't matter now, anyone that has any common sense will follow me. But I can't choose for you and you can't wait."

The room exploded into noise, some running up to their rooms to pick any last items and others argued red-faced and fiercely.

"Ron." A female voice hissed.

Resignedly he sighed as he met concerned brown eyes. "Hermione…"

"Did Harry put you up to this?" And after nearly seven years Ron had somehow or another found the maturity to read the hurt clear in those eyes. Didn't she know? They weren't the Gryffindor Trio anymore. Hadn't been for a while now.

"Does it really matter? The plan is done and there really isn't anything we can do about it anymore."

"I…I could have helped Ron. Haven't I always helped you before?"

Uncomfortably he rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it 'Mione. What needed to be done was done."

Both fell silent as they glanced at a particular argumetive Gryffindor that was all but crying as they pleaded with another not to join the Professors.

"Do you think everything will turn out alright?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron couldn't help but think it such a strange thing for Hermione to look to him for reassurance.

"Uh…Ron?" Neville interrupted them with an apologetic look. "How exactly will we be leaving Hogwarts…I mean, I don't know for sure, but aren't we surrounded?"

Ron smiled tiredly as the noise level fell down to a murmur. "We_ are_ pretty much surrounded. But haven't you ever noticed? People rarely look up. All the schools brooms have been taken to the Owlrey. From there we'll use the cloud cover to fly into the countryside."

"But…but what about the other Houses?" Someone asked hesitantly , almost like it was a traitorous thought. After all not all families were like the Weasleys.

"I can't tell you right now but they are being evacuated as we speak. Anyone that's coming better be ready in five minuets. There's some pretty serious weather-magic that will be covering our retreat; it won't last forever."

Abruptly the room descended into chaos. Ron continued watching them, studying every face that had been a regular part of his life. Idly he noted Lavender Brown of all people arguing fiercely with Parvati Patil. Brown clutched her wand and made a motion toward a group of students gearing up in what seemed like every magic-resistant scarf they had.

He didn't know it then but it would be last time anyone would see silly, laughing Lavender Brown alive.

"Ron?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't we join them?"

To fight, Ron knew. To get lost in a struggle and forget there were ever people waiting for something else.

"No." He said, eyeing her with a new thought. "But you know what 'Mione? I don't want to regret anything."

"…regret?"

And he kissed her with every last adolescent cell that had at one time wondered what it would be like.

Beat-red Neville made a hasty retreat.

**S**

Five rings softly clicked against each other. Each was magnificent in its own right, a treasure immeasurable.

_Potter._

It was his duty, birth-given burden. Ill-luck, ill-sought destiny.

_Black_

For all that it was one of the darker names in history it meant a love more free than any he had ever known. The love of a godfather who'd wanted nothing but to care for his godson. It was a happy dream.

May the Blacks burn in Hell and may Sirius laugh with the best of them.

_Morrigan_

A secret passed on in a bloodline. Power given of a cold legacy. A servant to his means, an end to his plots.

_Slytherin_

Such a tortured, tragic legacy. Cursed mad throughout the centuries and proof love and good-intentions could be broken so horribly.

_Gryffindor_

The last part of the puzzle. Gryffindor had never known just when to keep their noses out of others' business. Shame he'd been one for so long…

"Amos?"

The Elder looked up at the brooding boy.

"I'm going out. Mind keeping something for me till I return?"

Something flashed in the air. Instinctively the Elder caught it, palm opening to reveal the jeweled Potter ring, gleaming warmly under his hand. When he looked up Harry was gone.

"Fair Winds." Amos blessed quietly.

It was a Wizard's war. And he was a vampire.

He'd never wished to be otherwise till then.

**S**

Minerva McGonagall had lived through two different wars; Voldemort's First War and Grindelwald's War.

And that did nothing to settle her pounding heart now. But this was different, she realized. Never before had a Dark Lord moved so openly against Hogwarts. But to literally place the castle under _siege._ It was unsettling.

"Professor? This corridor is all clear."

She waited till her companion fell into step before moving on. Her companion was an Auror, a little older than generally seen on field-duty (most likely the reason he'd been assigned to an 'easy' post at Hogwarts).

"This way Auror Stewart."

The Headmaster had paired them up and sent them to physically sweep the outer walls for signs of weakening wards. Unfortunately for all of them they didn't take into account just how willing Hogwarts would be to aid her Heirs. One Heir asked her to hide fleeing children from prying eyes _and she did_. Another begged her to lower her wards and let him come Home, _and she was_. And finally one of her Heir's blood asked her to hold her wards _and she tried_.

So Minerva remained oblivious to the quickly emptying Common Rooms. Because although not everyone wanted to leave, no one was keen on staying once rooms emptied.

"The Great Hall." Minerva signaled toward the heavy wooden doors.

She would never quite know what happened. Auror Stewart on the other hand would never even get the chance to wonder. Mostly because it was a trick of luck; because the fact someone walked on the right or left wasn't a conscious decision, not in this case.

Only that she flinched; sickly green power flaring besides her and a second later the dull thump as Auror Stewart—_who really was too old to be out on the field_—fell with horrible permanence.

It was also when she realized their careful security measures had failed. Hogwarts had already been breached. She twisted to face her opponent and had less than a second to spy a dark figure before she was flying. Chest burning terribly as magic lashed her; and she also was far too old to be playing war games. But none of that was important as she crumpled toward the ground, body sinking in a pool of robes.

Boots clicked clearly as they moved toward her. Her desperate fingers reached for a wand that was banished away just as quickly. Shaking shoulders would not support her as she tried to get more than a glimpse of her attacker. So she stayed pooled on the ground, each breath painful as something inside her protested.

Cold, thin fingers twisted into her hair and with a harsh jerk she met cruel red eyes. Her body protesting the uncomfortable angle she'd been thrust into. She could not help but see her attacker clearly. Eyes she'd never seen manifested but ones she'd known about for years. A face pale and twisted with unnatural rituals.

Soundlessly Minerva moved her mouth, mute in the face of Dark Lord Voldemort.

"Well, well." He tilted her neck more cruelly, delighting in her involuntary cry of pain. "Look what we have here. Truth be told I was waiting for your fool of a Master but it seems I will have to do something to catch his attention. It was quite boring, my dear, how about you entertain me?"

With a careless toss he released her, chest stinging as it fell back to the ground. Boots clicked away but Minerva knew better than to be grateful. Tom had always preferred the magical way of things, even in torture.

A soundless flick had her suspended in the air. Hands bound by forces she could not see and so frightenly helpless.

"What shall we do, little Gryffindor? Shall we reminisce, my girl? You must remember, my dear, so many years ago. The Head Boy and Girl always share the first dance and you my dear could never quite compare even back then."

"No…" She choked out. She had admired Tom Riddle so very much, maybe even loved him. She did not want to remember those days.

"You were such a stupid girl for all that they said otherwise. Shall you ask for a kiss again?" Thin lips smirked, taunting the memory of an inexperienced girl that couldn't even fathom the darkness in her fellow Head Boy.

"No…" She cried, blind to the reason for her protest. "Myrtle…you."

Myrtle Willard. A Hufflepuff girl with the nasty habit of being at the wrong end of jokes. Such an easy girl to tease. And dead in a bathroom stall before her fifth-year. No one had ever figured out just what had killed her.

"Ah…" Voldemort reminisced with amused fondness. "Another stupid girl, so very pesky and so utterly alone. Don't try and tell me you actually cared when the silly child died? After all memory says you were more than fond of taunting the girl."

"No…I'm…sorry." She gasped. Sorry Myrtle for never caring, for never thinking, for never knowing. Sorry for wishing a kiss on the eve of their Farewell Feast from her murderer. For spending countless months sighing after the calm, suave Slytherin Head Boy and never knowing just how many lives he'd snuffed out.

After all Tom Riddle had always been exceptionally good at keeping his disdainful business in the shadows were it belonged.

"Foolish Minerva, share a last dance, wont you?"

And she bit her lip to keep from crying as he twirled his wand, sending her immovable body spinning and dipping in a parody of a night more than fifty years ago.

"You will release her!" A voice boomed.

Voldemort gave the Transfiguration Professor a fanged smirk as he turned to face their newest arrival.

"Albus Dumbledore, I've been waiting for you. Thankfully your professor here was kind enough to keep me entertained. But I'm afraid she isn't amusing anymore. Shall we say goodbye, Minerva?"

Helpless eyes remained locked on Albus as the green light swallowed her whole. Glazed orbs continued their blank stare as her body slid into the ground.

Just another silly girl.

"This has gone on far enough."

Albus strode further into the Great Hall. Above them the enchanted sky-light swirled and twisted, heavy gray clouds as Hogwarts bowed and trembled, an alien presence older than itself and far more malicious waiting in the darkness woke.

The Founder's blood had been cursed since the beginning.

**S**

Seamus, Dean, and Neville slid closer to Ron. He nodded at them before signaling a couple of older students with cool heads.

All around them owls squawked as they gazed down curiously at the assembled students. With a final head count he glanced to Neville who'd remained gazing out into one of the large windows.

"Weather-magic you say?" He nearly squeaked out, something like awe and nervousness making him sound as jumpy as he'd been as a first year.

Ron took his own look. Harry had said their flight would be protected. He'd just never bothered to wonder just what that would mean. Outside dense clouds drifted by, swallowing moon and starts whole. But still…there was something _lurking _in those clouds.

"What did you want us to do?" Dean reminded both boys.

"Uh…right, mate. I need you all to keep an eye on everyone. We'll be launching in groups and each of you will be spread about to help keep them calm. It might be bloody cold but we'll be keeping as high as possible. I think there's enough magic here that warming charms shouldn't be detected but once we leave the area you'll need to make sure all those charms are dispelled. The more magic we use the larger a beacon we become and I think all of us know we don't want anyone to know just who's leaving.

"You all got that? Right. Neville you'll be flying out first."

"Me?" The boy squeaked, glancing helplessly at the others.

"Sure. I know you Neville, you'll do fine. Everyone take a D.A. galleon. If you run into trouble this is how you'll call out. Just…just don't go low. There's some serious magic out there."

A while later Hermione drifted closer to Ron, both gazing at Neville as he launched the fourth-years. Young enough that they still needed someone to look after them but not so young as to be more trouble than Neville could handle.

"This plan…" Hermione awkwardly started. "What if we're betrayed? Like Pettigrew."

Ron continued looking out into the distance as Neville led his group into the clouds; each broom teetered to his own by some of the same spells commonly used on training brooms. He took a moment to thoughtfully appreciate just how mad Slytherin would be when they found out what spells were placed on their precious brooms.

"I know." And Ron did. They were vulnerable in the air. All the enemy needed was one traitorous student flying bellow cloud cover and launching a firecracker of all things. Ron could still try using another route devised to evacuate the other Houses but it would take time he simply did not have.

He shrugged uncomfortably at Hermione's look. Quietly he repeated, "I _do_ know, 'Mione. Fourth-year Merric Peragon—his mum and dad are both Death Eaters."

For a moment Hermione moved a wordless mouth. She hissed, aware she couldn't risk panicking everyone else. "And you send the boy _first_?"

"Like I said, there's some serious weather magic…and it looks like we'll get to see first hand."

Startled gasps and whispered curses rose all around him as a figure broke cover. Peragon had Chosen and it wasn't them. The dismay around him turned to bewilderment as a particular fierce wind literally spun the fourth-year. While the fourth-year was competent on a broom he had no where near the skill a first-year Potter had shown and as such the poor boy could only clutch his broom as he steadied himself. Above him churning clouds lurked with something _other_.

Neville, who was closest, was smart enough to know whatever was happening wasn't going to end well. A clear space full of starts and open skies was twirling powerfully. As it was he'd once had to research a particular seed that only bloomed in something called _twisters._ He wasn't all that comforted to see that particular weather formation _now_. With a slash of his wand Neville cut the tether to Peragon's broom.

Ron had always known Neville would do what needed to be done, however much he didn't want to. He'd never noticed how alike Neville and Harry really were.

"It…it looks like a tornado." Hermione observed, not unexpectantly knowing that tidbit of information. "Wait…I don't think that's what it's going to do. Maybe an artificial eye?"

Unfortunately none of Hermione's musing would do anything to help Peragon even if he could have used the information. What happened next left everyone watching mystified and Peragon an eternity to regret. The artificial storm-eye opened and something howled, muffled and so very powerful. Frightened hands clutched his broom and in a second Peragon couldn't have moved if he wanted as his extremities literary froze. Ice ghosted along his skin till he resembled a carved statue more than a boy. And only Peragon would ever know if the ice or the fall killed him.

He descended quietly into a rocky portion of Hogwarts grounds. It had been Ron's ideal launching pad because of the likelihood it would be clear of Voldemort's army.

"Extremely cold air accio'd from the higher atmosphere." Hermione mumbled among the horrified gasps.

"There's serious weather-magic." He reminded everyone grimly, the true seriousness of his words finally evident. "Hermione, Dean, Ginny, and anyone in the Quidditch team go gather your group. You'll be taking the first-years. Seamus and Parvati, you've the second years. I'll be splitting the third and sixth into two groups and fifth will be led by O'Malley."

It wasn't surprising that no other group broke cloud cover. Grimly Ron continued watching as every subsequent group launched.

"Ron?" Seamus glanced at him, Parvati busy correcting every second-years grip. "What about you? Whose group are you going with?"

Ron was forever thankful that Hermione and Ginny weren't around to overhear that. "I've things to do yet Seamus."

The other boy grimaced. "I don't want to be near your sister when someone has to explain that to her."

"Seamus? Let's go." Pale but determined, Parvati moved to her place in the back of the group. Most everyone leading one of the groups had at one time been trained by the D.A. and frankly were the only ones Ron knew to be quick enough to catch any falling students.

"Fair Winds." Ron blessed.

"Bloody cold is what it'll be." Seamus muttered in return, before sprinting into the air.

**S**

The two opponents continued to circle each other, careless flicks of their hands sending the House Tables skidding into the wall and into each other. Albus for all that he held Minerva dear could not afford to properly care for her body. It was a necessity of war, he lamented, as he banished her body as gently as he could to one far wall.

Voldemort would require everyone last one of his wits sharp and ready. He could not help but remember a boy that had once upon a time looked up wonderedly for the first time and who now stood before him ready to darkly twist everything in sight.

"I am sorry Tom, for all that I have done you could not escape your destiny." Albus said, pained as if Voldemort was still Tom. Still young and angry with too much power and not enough humanity.

"You sing a song of innocence, old fool. I am your self-fulfilling prophecy. You meddled with my Family, tainted my line with Muggle blood, and when my mother died you refused my existence. A poor little orphan, better off with the primitive pieces of flesh that could not begin to understand a wizard.

"Once scorned, you continued your same tricks. Where is your Savior now, Albus? Your Golden Child that was supposed to fight me, shed blood in your name, held in by the pitiful strings that make up your world.

"_Weak_. You've wasted and decayed, and I…."

Searing magic lashed the air about him, dark and tainted with so much anger and hate. So much rage…

"…I have only grown STRONGER!"

"Be that is it may, you will not win _Tom_. The very fact none of your army has stepped inside these stone halls is proof enough there will always be someone to fight you and any of those that follow you. We have something you don't. Because all those that fight you have proven they will fight and die for someone else, and you, as driven as you have become, have proven you will fight for no one but yourself!"

Voldemort laughed, a chilling and creeping sound that echoed oddly in his vocal cords. _In the forging of his body, a snake hissed too loudly. _"They called him the Boy-Who-Lived. Placed a world's hope on a brat that didn't know enough to _love _any of you, because in the end not even love could save the woman—his mother. Your little caged Prince, Albus. …Tell me where is he now? Didn't you lock him up tight enough? Wrapped him so securely you couldn't even see how _alike_ he and I are—"

"Harry is nothing like you." Albus stated firmly, his expression remaining even. Voldemort was oddly reminded of every time someone had been caught sleeping in class. "He cares about his friends, his family—and that is enough to separate the two of you."

Voldemort smirked coldly, dark amusement shinning in his red—_glowing_—eyes. "The boy is bathed in so much rage it is a wonder he hasn't_ killed_ you. That boy has never shed a tear for any of his blood that has died, much less those I've killed myself. He would have _thanked_ you had you done even that for him. And so you abandoned another wizard, left him to be surrounded by weak, pitiful little humans that understood and _hated_ what we were born to do.

"So Albus, where is he now? Fighting my army at the Gates? Starring me down by your side? Dare I say…he's abandoned you." Voldemort finished with a harsh whisper, every word aimed and filed to tear at the old Headmaster.

"No…" And for a moment uncertainty crept into eyes that had rarely ever faltered in their course. Because Harry it was true… He wasn't here; had quite possibly left...them.

And that's when a new voice interrupted them, sighing heavily, "Unfortunately for all of us I could not quite stay away. So very unlucky, don't you think?"

It was possibly the oddest gathering ever held in the Great Hall.

An aged, white-bearded old man dressed in sky-blue robes adorned with drifting stars and shy unicorns—personally tailored (there'd never been much demand for such things much to Albus' befuddlement). And despite that he _glowed_, blue eyes fierce in battle-readiness, and flesh flush with adrenaline. Skin hazy and vibrant with almost solid power, lashed tightly to his very soul.

A darkly-robed thin figure of a man, his skin immediately noticeable for its paleness. Unnatural red-eyes were cold and calculating, ruthlessness lurking in the back of those orbs.  
In the shifting torch-light, a pattern of scale-like iridescent skin gleamed along his cheekbones, only adding to his malicious figure.

And between two titans, was the oddest one of all. A young man, thin with too much growing and lanky as only youth could make one. His face was smooth, time having yet to mark it in the same manner his companions showed their years. Dressed in sturdy pants and shirt, an open battle robe worn to protect him somewhat from battle-damage—he was the picture of high-born rebellion. He could easily be dismissed as just another boy, save one thing. One thing he shared with the other two. He had the same eyes; the same look of power in his soul and the will to wield it for an end.

These were men who choose their places in the world, and what's more had the power to make it so.

"Bravo…" Voldemort clapped slowly. "And the Prince has indeed come."

"No more a prince than you." Harry shrugged, deceptively casual.

"Child, child…" Voldemort tsk'd like a disapproving parent, despite how frankly unsettling it was thinking about the Snake Lord reproducing. "And so ends our reprieve though it need not. We understand each other, child, more so than that old fool ever bothered to know either of us. This is not your war; leave this place and these people."

Both wizards couldn't help but be amused at Dumbledore's sharp intake of breath.

Harry rolled his eyes at his former Headmaster, petulant adolescence at its finest. "Like you couldn't guess _that _was coming? We're practically wired to each other; of course we're going to get some reception."

And Albus, old glorified wizard that he was, was looking at his most recent student with a terrible realization.

"You said it yourself," Voldemort further taunted. "He and I are so _terribly _alike."

"It matters not how alike, it is our choices that define us—and that is something no one but themselves can decide." Albus reminded them, aware of the wary distance the other two wizards maintained between them. Not such chum allies, were they?

A bolt of power laced the air and Albus spun his own power, howling as it countered. "Enough playing old man." Voldemort tossed his head arrogantly. With a tilt of his head he turned to look at Harry, who had so far not moved. " Its time for you to choose, Harry Potter. Whatever foolish idea inspired you to come this night cannot be unmade. You came and now you must _choose_."

And Albus, old glorified wizard that he was, was looking at his most recent student with a terrible realization.

"You said it yourself," Voldemort further taunted. "He and I are so _terribly _alike."

"It matters not how alike, it is our choices that define us—and that is something no one but yourselves can decide." Albus reminded them, aware of the wary distance the other two wizards maintained between them. Not such chum allies, were they?

A bolt of power lashed the air and Albus spun, his own power howling as it countered. "Enough playing old man." Voldemort tossed his head arrogantly. With a tilt of his head he turned to look at Harry, who had so far not moved. " Its time for you to choose, Harry Potter. Whatever foolish idea inspired you to come this night cannot be unmade. You came and now you must _choose_."

And really, that was the whole mess. Since when did anyone say there could only be two choices?"

"Why?" Harry mused as he glanced curiously at both wizards. "You both have gone through all the trouble of arranging this meeting. Shouldn't you settle this between yourselves first?"

Albus' lips tightened. Such a complicated game and such an unwilling boy.

Voldemort gave a hissing laugh. "No, child. Choose your path."

Harry tilted his head in innocent consideration, for all the world honestly looking as he was trying to decide between these two men. Finally he sighed, "If I must…"

They only had a warning of something silver flashing at the edge of his robe's sleeve before Voldemort hissed, fingers touching his cheek as dark blood trickled down his skin.

"So be it." And the Dark Lord had never known mercy to his enemies.

"You will lose, Tom." Albus reminded as he send a curse of angry purple tearing the ground between them.

Voldemort snarled and his wand glowed, bright as a sun and powerful the like which few living had ever seen. Hands rose as he called his own power against the Headmaster. Their magic met in a resounding thunder, momentarily deafening Harry as he instinctively ducked low. It was little protection as he still crashed into an overturned bench.

"For all that you have done in this damnable school, I'll grant you a favor Albus. Spend eternity with Hogwarts—it will be your tomb." Hissed Voldemort, sickly and serpentine. "YOU SHALL NOT LEAVE THIS TOMB!"

Blue eyes gleamed with indomitable challenge. This was the power hidden in a doddering old man that few had ever seen. Above them windows were bricked shut as Hogwarts vacillated between the need to protect her Heirs and an older malicious presence that was reaching for the Founder's Blood.

Again their magic flared glittering and cold, bright and unforgiving. Spinning and dancing in the air, transfigured lances and wicked swords shone in the haze between them before disappearing as they were torn and remade.

Harry coughed in the heavy press of magic. So far both wizards were content to ignore his presence, more concerned with the bigger threat. He would freely admit he could not hold his own for long against these two. As they fought they seemed to know the next step in their battle even before it came and had three counters ready in return. He just didn't have enough experience.

Silently he called back his bloody dagger.

_Blood of the Enemy, forcibly taken._

Albus moved in front of Harry, no doubt protecting the younger wizard till he acted foolishly and actually engaged the Dark Lord. It had always been Harry's more impulsive trait.

His mistake, Harry reasoned as he brought the twin of the other dagger flashing over the open hand of his former mentor. Albus instinctively turned to face the newest danger but Harry was already dashing away, a bloody finger gripped tightly in his palm.

_Flesh of the Servant, not quite willing. _

Poor Albus who had served destiny every second he thought he played his own games. It wasn't like that. Destiny crowned Harry and Albus had done everything in his power to bring him here. Not all games were solitary and Harry would win this one.

The second of distraction was more than enough as a spinning cyclone of fire scorched a good portion of the Headmaster's beard. Voldemort was not so consumed he didn't notice his youngest rival had more planned than obvious.

"What are you up to, child?" He asked in a brief lull of the warring powers.

Coughing Harry looked up from his position, smiling grimly (and a tat mad if truth be told but then again his companions weren't in the position to complain).

"Haven't you ever wondered why things have gone so awful? Why everything meant to help you has turned into dust and everyone that could have loved you has gone away? Why in the end we are all alone? Didn't you ever think even with bad luck, this was all just a bit wrong?" Harry talked as Voldemort and Albus tried to control their bodies' exertion. All around them pieces of unfortunate furniture burned, introducing smoke into the already heavy air. "My mother's death fueled powerful magic; protection that prevented you from touching me. What do you think a whole people's death could have fueled?"

Warily the three wizards circled each other, no longer trusting any quarter.

"You're so proud of your heritage," Harry quietly said, feeling the suffocating buildup as they gathered their strength. "Slytherin and Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and such a stupid legacy has withered to _this_. There are no more Heirs; this is all that is left for everyone that could have been here has died in the Founder's self-destruction. Their Blood was cursed powerfully with death-magic and its time it was paid in full."

Sharp blue eyes focused on Harry, reading what he hadn't been saying. They did not miss the ring in Harry's hand or what it meant.

_Morrigan. _

"You…" And Voldemort was truly displeased now. Yew wand flashed in a wave of power but Albus stepped forward, his own skills shaping a silver shield to protect them both. A blast of hot air hissed as their battle began again.

In their wake he was a child compared to them.

"Your experience means you'd win, but I am more powerful than either of you." Harry muttered, his words lost as stones shook in protest each time magic collided and sometimes when it didn't. "So let's level the playing field."

Above them the enchanted sky spun in a furious cyclone, fractured arcs of white lightning born in their depth. There was deep magic in this place, made of never-resting hate and vengeance. And it wanted them, salivated at the thought of the Heir-Blood each one carried. It would drag them into death the second it could sink vengeful claws. For a millennia of nightmares, a curse that strangled every happiness they ever thought to hold. Because the History of Man didn't remember Rowsgath and the powerful curse placed on its conquerors.

But Harry would release it now.

White power raced along one arm and Black Flame sprung in the other. Warring powers nearing each other in a shadow cradle.

_Initial Tear_

It _hurt_; hurt more than anything he'd ever felt. Unforgiving power tearing back into his body, a closed circuit so to speak. It seared and burned and left everything anew in its wake only to tear it apart again. Destruction and rebirth in the span of a second. But his was a mortal body and though his magic could sustain the onslaught his body could not.

_Final Tear_

There was no blood, only the heavy smell of magic as his mortal form was vaporized from one second to another.

He was magic at its most primal, something akin to the wandering wraith Voldemort had been a decade ago. And from the first death young Harry caused—stuttering, stupid Quirrell made him a murderer—he learned in the end the strongest entity would dominate. Time to prove his theory and choose his path.

Voldemort and Albus moved back as the air became saturated with something that set their nerves racing. Even they could not say they had ever seen something like the heavy cloud of churning power. It was dark and bright at its core, laced wildly with white and green and despite not knowing just what it was both wizards knew it was Harry. Angrily it began to spin in a wide circle, sending rubble into the air and pulling at their heavy robes.

"Harry!" Albus screamed, squinting as he tried to protect his eyes from the debris.

Above the ceiling crackled the darkest black, wisps of ebony drifting ever so slowly to where the wizards still battled.

Albus didn't have time to flinch as the cloud of power narrowed, his body fully surrounded by the raging storm.

"Clever boy," Voldemort muttered, hands raised defensively in front of him. "You've torn your magical core from your body. A sacrifice for death's door. But not good enough."

Searing green death cut through the cloud, yew wand raised aggressively. It didn't matter. The cloud howled in agony and anger, latching on to the taste of tainted magic. This battle was no longer about enchanted items and secret weapons, about backdoor deals and little tests.

If Harry could laugh he would have done so, _I've found your magic now._

Albus blinked watering eyes as Voldemort disappeared into the depth of the hazy storm. The magic continued to swirl around angrily, tinted red and green now. It was feral and wild in a way that spoke little of thought and everything about base instincts. And it continued to narrow around him.

It was a sacrifice Albus had never thought to make. Harry and Tom. It had always been Harry and Tom. Such willful children as to form a funnel of magic and emotion, twisted half in the living world and half in the other realm.

With a tired sigh he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "So this is it…"

Howling mage-winds swallowed him whole a second later, tearing his body apart. There was no Harry, there was no Tom, and there was no Albus. Their bodies were gone and their magic lashed every surface.

The curse of Rowsgath Hogwarts was made of deep magic…

"_Magic is magic."_

A decade ago, Tom wandered as a bodiless spirit, more instinct than human.

"_Thus, will is a nexus of endless possibilities."_

And nobody had ever accused Harry of not being willful.

They were one and they were three. They were fighting and twisting, flowing and merging. They were so near death, wisps of their essence crossed the threshold without even knowing. But What-Was-Harry was stronger than the Others. It was so very painful for What-Was-Harry to tear itself away. Death…death had never sung so sweetly, welcomed so readily and in any life that followed he would never manage to forget that song. But he felt something else call him, a yellowed bone beckoned with something soul jarring.

What-Was-Harry remembered; remembered his mother, fiery red-hair and green eyes. She'd left her mark on him, deeper than anyone ever could. Wove her magic and soul into his skin and spirit, marking him past life and past death.

He remembered.

_Bone of the mother…_

…_You Will Renew Your Son!_

**S**

Hogwarts trembled.

Stone and mortar grinding against each other, runes and seals flaring in a final brilliant display of power. And despite all that, Hogwarts trembled as the very magic that had bound its foundation was now literally tearing it apart. It was all falling apart.

Outside battling wizards fell to the ground as the earth trembled. Masked figures cried out in pain as just like a decade before the Dark Mark disappeared. Aurors, Order Members and what students and teachers had so far managed to survive did not waste time. Their spells flared fiercely against their stunned opponents.

There was no honor in war. Only rage and fear and desperation; only shaky sobs as every once in a while the smoke would clear enough to see a familiar face slack, already gone.

All along now empty halls, portraits of squawking wizards and witches, hollowed suits of armor, and carved stone figures held up fruitless arms in the wake of unstoppable destruction.

And despite narrowly avoiding gargoyle-induced death just seconds before, Ron did not flee. _Would not_ flee, not now.

Wand flaring in arcs of magic, Ron blasted the heavy door of the Great Hall. Its protective seals deteriorating with every hit.

Everyone else had done their part, fought their battle. Now it was Ron's turn, his chance to hold a burden worth more than he and prove himself equal to the task.

He would not run away, not now.

The door groaned one final time before a narrow patch of wood exploded. A disquieting silence being the only response to the intrusion. Still, he would prove himself equal to the task. Kicking and blasting the narrow opening, Ron thanked his lanky frame before squirming into the dark Hall.

It was unfortunate Ron would never remember the Great Hall as a joyful place, ringing with the sounds of Four Tables and hundreds of ignorant, petulant, brilliant, grinning children. Because what he saw now he would do his best to forget, even if it meant deliberately making the memories of earlier days dimmer in his mind.

Stone covered the great arched windows that had once upon a time introduced a herd of owls to anxious students. Black char darkened every surface, the Great Tables gone except for a few stay pieces of tinder. Parts of the floor were likewise turned to rubble, distant underground fires lighting a hidden expanse. Slytherin's Dark Hall, his mocking parody, Ron figured having run through the echoing silence in another time.

Warily he lit his wand, peering through the darkness. His steps echoed softly, muffled now only by the smoke that drifted up through the gashes on the ground. He didn't stop when he spotted a smoke-tinted blue robe, broken glasses carelessly discarded or even when he saw a rich dark cloak, its falling puddle reminiscent of another scene sixteen years prior. He shivered in the oppressive gloom, denying instincts that told him it was _wrong _of him to be there.

Ron had a goal, bound by his own promise. If friendship was worth anything then it would be now that such things were remembered.

And finally the oppressive silence was broken by a soft gurgle. Listening intently, Ron hesitantly made his way. Despite having been warned of the distinct possibility a very big part of Ron crumbled to the ground and…gaped.

Because lying before him, naked as a day he was born, was a small child—an infant really. Noting the distinct lack of auburn-gold hair, Ron pushed back baby-soft tufts of black hair and peeled back one eyelid. Petulant green gazed back at him reproaching. Baby appendages waved at him in disgruntlement, no doubt irritated by the hazy smoke in the air and his own nakedness.

"_Merlin have mercy."_ Ron swore his disbelief. Harry had actually done it. Turned back Voldemort's ritual and sealed his own soul in a body made anew. Trembling Quidditch-calloused hands gently touched the child, remembering Harry's hasty words.

"Bone of the mother, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy—you will renew." Ron repeated.

A distant explosion broke his musings. Hastily Ron bundled the infant in the nearest thing he could find—a tattered length of blue robes. Hogwarts was falling down around his ears; now was not the time to daydream.

Harry had fought and won his battle, turned back fate and remade destiny. Now it was Ron's turn to protect his hard-won victory.

So he turned to escape the falling castle, running as carefully as he could for all that he was worth. Abruptly Ron skidded, narrowly stopping his ugly crash into the rubbled mess that had once-upon a time been Hogwarts' main door.

Bad luck that, Ron cursed. Undaunted Ron glanced at both sides of the hall before determinedly making his way east. He had not spent some of his most memorable years running away from Filch and that damned cat of his without having come across other exits. Not to mention his recent exploration and evacuation plans.

Avoiding the way to the Quidditch fields (which no doubt resembled an ugly piece of burning battlefield) Ron made his way near Hufflepuff's exit point, which would lead him into a secluded courtyard and onto the opposite side of the lake from the Quidditch field. It was empty, Justin having already led his house into the Forbidden Forest were a herd of transfigured horses would carry them, guided as far as they needed to by Centaurs. (It was taken as a given Centaurs would never led a human ride them.)

It was unfortunate that Ron's plan did not go as smoothly as he liked.

Crumbled in the center of the courtyard, mask shattered before the kneeling figure, was a black-robed Draco Malfoy. Ron did not know it then but Hufflepuff and the Marked Slytherins narrowly avoided one another, the first as they fled and the second as they opened Hogwarts to Voldemort. Malfoy looked up; glassy pale eyes, shocked and too focused (in a way Ron did not like) on the baby held in his arms.

Malfoy moved his mouth soundlessly, pale and sweaty from the _worst_ day of his life. Because Draco Malfoy wasn't as ruthless as his father and when the time came for it he did not have his mother's determination. Malfoy had fled the battlefield, ignoring his companions' recriminations and had just spent the last couple of hours feeling the ground tremble and shake. Knowing it was over for him if the Dark Lord won (Voldemort detested traitors, even harmless ones as Draco had proven to be)and yet the Ministry's leniency could not be expected, not when they would squeeze every last Knut out of him and turn his life into just another desperate beggar, an example of how such a family could fall.

Even as the wizard-made explosions became fewer and fewer, Draco Malfoy came to the distant realization that Lucius Malfoy had ruined the Malfoy legacy. He Choose wrongly.

And he resigned himself to his fate, just another doll broken by circumstance. That did not prepare him for the first person that stumbled over him.

A Weasley, his mind bitterly supplied. Just another Gryffindork that wasn't anything special but despite that would be a _hero_. A careless idiot that made all the right choices and never had to fall like Draco did.

Still it took him a moment to realize it was Ron Weasley that had discovered him. Ruining any image Draco held of the other boy following Potter around, protecting him like Draco had never been protected. It was a surprise to see a soot-covered Weasley instead of a bloody, battle-scarred boy.

No one had _made_ Ron Weasley fight, Draco sullenly noticed. And still it wasn't over, not this nightmare of _good addled-brained Headmasters, evil terrifying Dark Lords, and too powerful boys. _

Not if that baby wiggling in Weasley's arms meant anything.

It wasn't over.

Ron for his part only had a second to think, to react decidedly faster than the boy in his path. He could walk away, leave the dejected boy. A danger when he didn't know if the Ministry won or lost. Either way it was a too-big risk, to leave a boy with the knowledge that _Ron _carried a_ defenseless_ child away from the site of ruin. Ron had no illusions that the boy in front of him wouldn't sell the information for what little leniency he could.

No. Ron's greatest protection had been in the fact no one had known, his plan, his intentions, and the result of the conflict of titans.

It meant Harry's life and safety that no one ever know what happened. And because of that Ron knew he could do what he had to do.

Draco didn't have time to think or even move, his last thought blankly reflecting how utterly unsurprising it had all been. With a whispered sigh the blond boy crumbled lifelessly next to his Mask.

His death when discovered would go entirely unnoticed, just another foolish boy brought down by hard-working Aurors despite the fact no one would ever be sure just exactly who dealt the death blow (in spite of several blubbering rookies claiming the credit).

Ron didn't have time to think on what it meant to have taken a life, even if it was a life he'd angrily sworn more than one time in his ignorant childhood to kill. Funny, that the whole of Hogwarts had at one time or another heard his bellowed death threat yet no one would ever suspect him of the final deed.

With that in mind he determinedly strode into the Forbidden Forest, banishing all thoughts of giant spiders—_that were so big and fearsome, big enough to eat him without a worry_.

They found each other, narrowly avoiding blasting each other in payment of the bad start.

Warily they eyed each other, the soot-covered human boy and the pale vampire girl, both woefully unprepared for the situation. Hesitantly the vampire girl (who despite legends had never spent any time with humans) held up a chain, the Potter Signet hanging at its end. Unconsciously Ron tightened his grip on his best-friend—_who Merlin willing knew what he wanted when he asked Ron do to this._

It was then that the infant woke, sleepy green-eyes peering at the word around him before lightening when they spotted the dangling play-thing. Both adults (or near-adults) watched the child lift chubby arms toward the Potter Ring—almost like he knew what it meant, they both thought.

"He's my best-friend." Ron explained, breaking the uncertain silence.

The girl, gold-eyes solemn, nodded her understanding. "I will take care of him."

Ron eyed the vampire. "You'll be his guardian?"

"No." The girl eased his fears, unfounded though they may be. "It would be unwise repayment to grow in the darkness; he doesn't need that."

Ron held the baby close one last time, pressing his cheek against soft hair and murmured a parting. He would give the girl his friend, knowing the girl would spirit him away for a very long time. And he would send the child with his wish, that if his friend's second childhood could not be normal then let it at least be happy.

He watched the darkness long after the girl had left, completely unmindful of the shadowy forest that held giant, ugly spiders. The most powerful wizard in their world was a child; now hidden in secrecy and capable of changing the world without expectations hindering him. The war had ended that night. No one, he knew, had the power to hold the scattered army together.

It was over, he thought before contradicting himself entirely. It wasn't over. For a green-eyed baby, it was just beginning..

Again.

**S**

**THE END**

**S**

**29 July 2007**

**AN: Let's all take a moment to realize I just wrote 'The End'. How funny…**

**Now for anyone that read Deadly Hallows there are some digs at the story (see if you spot them) and for those that haven't it doesn't matter. They're vague enough you won't recognize them for what they are. **

**If anyone's confused about why Harry managed to survive it's because when he was incorporeal some of him did cross over. In a way a part of Harry died, the part of him most connected to death (like his link to Tom and the Curse on his blood). Questions about the plot will be answered for those wondering. Just review and I'll return comment.**

**Having finished this I'll be turning my attention to my other story (Child of Mercy) and no, I haven't forgotten about it but there's only so much productivity you can expect from me and it was all temporarily directed at finishing this**__

**Tell me what you think! And Thank You for every last review (2275)! Frankly in the beginning I never expected so many. It's made me smile whenever I see one.**

_**Special thanks to Darksov and The-Hyphenated-One from Dark Lord Potter forum.**_


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